Falling in Love Again (32 page)

43

ALISON

‘SAM! Get off the bed! You know you aren’t allowed there.’

‘Don’t be so hard on him, Mum. He’s just a baby.’

Sometimes Alison didn’t know whether taking in Sam – a so-called short term arrangement just until Karen had sorted out ‘a few domestic issues’ – had been crazy or the best thing that could have happened to them.

Sam certainly seemed to have helped Jules. Just look at the two of them, cuddled up now on her bed, while she tried to decide what to wear.

‘You look fine in that.’ Her daughter looked up, arms still round Sam who was drinking in the fuss. ‘Why are you changing again?’

Funny really. As soon as Jules had moved back (‘just for a few months, Mum, ‘till I can afford somewhere’), she could see she had changed. Become softer somehow. More appreciative. Her initial anger about Hugh had muted into a quiet acceptance, especially after Alison had sat her down and told her about the meeting with Dad.

Jules had wrinkled up her nose and examined her latest arm tattoo, which was what she always did when thinking. ‘Sounds like he’s gone off his rocker.’

Exactly what Caroline had said – not that she was seeing much of her sister nowadays. The latest boyfriend (some chap called Simon apparently) was taking up a lot of her time. So much so that she had asked Alison to come in for three mornings a week, instead of two. She’d even been ‘allowed’ to write a couple of press releases.

‘Your father was working very hard,’ Alison had said, wondering why she was making excuses for David. ‘I think it all got too much for him.’

Jules had shrugged. ‘Everyone’s parents work hard nowadays. Look at you. You’re never in any more.’

‘I can’t help it – I have to work to pay the mortgage.’

‘Chill out, Mum. I wasn’t criticising. I was making a point. ‘Sides, I’ve got to find something now. I can’t sponge off you forever.’

She
had
changed!

‘Where are you going tonight with this Hugh bloke then?’ Jules’s question brought Alison back to the present. She took another glance at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t coloured her own hair for ages but it actually looked quite nice – just as good as the salon and a fraction of the price. And losing that stone since David had left seemed to suit her. This time, the cap had slipped in perfectly although she’d almost used Deep Heat instead which was right next to the gel in her bedside cupboard. What a disaster that would have been!  ‘He’s cooking dinner at his place.’

Jules immediately sat up, causing Sam to leap off the edge of the bed, hoping it was ball time again. ‘You’re going to his house?’

‘Apartment, actually.’

‘Do you know how dangerous that might be? He could try anything on.’

She’d thought about that herself, albeit fleetingly. Hugh was too much of a gentleman for that. If anything, she remembered with a squirm of embarrassment, she had been keener, with that goodnight kiss, than he had.

‘Well keep your mobile on. And don’t do anything stupid.’

They both looked at each other, courtesy of the mirror. How weird, she thought, to be discussing a boyfriend with her daughter when only a few months ago she had been happily married. Suddenly, the anger boiled up again inside. How dare David tip their marriage upside down like this? She was entitled to do anything she wanted now – anything.

After that conversation, Alison didn’t feel like going out immediately. Besides she was early. A walk with Sam was just what she needed to clear her head, especially now the evenings were lighter.

As she watched Sam bound over the field towards a large chocolate lab he’d befriended over the weeks, she could almost pretend he was Mungo. No! She shouldn’t think that way. He was different. Just as she was now. They all were.

Still, she thought, as she ran to keep up with Sam, it was lovely to have a dog again. Someone who made you get out, whatever the weather.  She’d begun to talk to him too, just as she had done with Mungo. ‘What do you think I should do if Hugh makes a move?’ she asked now.

Such a lovely little dog, looking up at her understandingly. Maybe she might just ask Karen if she could keep him after all . . . Then he was off and she had to run after him. Wow! She was out of breath. But she felt surprisingly good about it.

‘Someone rang for you,’ said Clive when she got back. ‘Someone called David. THE David, I take it.’

Her heart quickened.

‘I’m afraid I might have put my foot in it unintentionally. I said you were out with Sam.’ Clive’s eyes twinkled. ‘Does he know about the puppy? If not, I might just have given the impression that Sam was a bloke . . .’

Clearly, Hugh had gone to a lot of trouble! The kitchen table was beautifully laid with tasteful green and pink botanical garden print place mats and proper napkins folded on Wedgwood side plates. There was a small candle swimming in a bowl of water in the middle.

Romantic but not over the top.

‘Most of this was my sister’s,’ he said when she complimented him on his taste. ‘She taught me to cook too.’

He’d mentioned her a lot in the last few months, both to her and at the meetings. ‘It must be hard for you now she’s gone,’ she said quietly.

His face didn’t move. ‘I get by.’

The way he said it was more the way a husband might refer to a wife who had died.  ‘Smells delicious!’ Purposefully she raised her voice in a lilt to restore a more positive feel.

‘Thanks.’ He was earnestly adding chopped fresh tarragon with the kind of precision that suggested he took cooking seriously. ‘We’ll see when we’re eating, shall we?’

There was something different about him tonight. He was nervous; awkward. And his hands shook slightly as he carried the food to the table. How she yearned to put him at his ease! And yet at the same time, it didn’t feel quite right, sitting at the same table with a man who wasn’t her husband; Wagner in the background when she preferred jazz; wondering if they were or weren’t going to go to bed. Supposing she did it all wrong? Supposing she was boring? Yet David has slept with someone else, hadn’t he?  So why shouldn’t she?

They ate the tagliatelle almost in silence.

‘Great pasta,’ she volunteered.

‘Thanks.’ He spoke slowly as thought thinking of something else. ‘I made it myself.’

A man who made his own pasta? Suddenly she had visions of David hanging strips of it from the ceiling to dry, the way she’d seen one of the television cooks doing it.

‘What’s wrong?

He was looking at her almost suspiciously.

‘Nothing really. Just a thought that occurred to me.’

He didn’t look convinced.

She put down her knife and fork. ‘I feel nervous too, you know.’

‘Who said anything about being nervous?’ His face was stony and her heart fluttered with misgivings.

‘Well, maybe not you then. But I do.’

His face seemed to clear, and emboldened she continued.

‘You’re the first man I’ve been out with, since David.’ She leaned forward across the table, feeling empowered by the wine and her confession. ‘I’m scared, Hugh. I feel awkward and stupid like a spotty teenager.’

His hand stretched across the table and clasped hers. ‘You’re not a spotty teenager. You’re beautiful and intelligent, Alison.’

He jumped up. ‘In fact, I don’t know why I asked you round. I can’t offer you anything. I’m . . . I’m not ready.’

She stood up then and found herself almost touching him; he wasn’t as tall as David and their faces were close. ‘I’m not asking for anything, Hugh. Just friendship and maybe . . .’

His arms were around her before she knew it. Solid. Warm. Arms that wanted her. Not arms which had pushed her away like her husband’s. They felt different. Thicker in places and yet somehow less strong. His mouth was on hers now; hard and yet soft at the same time. Exploratory; curious at first and then meaningful as though he was kissing with intent. She felt him harden against her as they stumbled towards a wall, her back against it.

‘No!’ part of her wanted to scream.

‘Don’t be such a wimp,’ said another.

Then he was leading her away from the table and into the room next door. Fleetingly, she took in the fact that it was small; dominated by a huge bed with a pink and cream cover. Irrelevantly, she couldn’t help thinking that it was rather feminine for a man and then he was on her; his mouth still pressing on hers and his hands peeling off her black blouse and then her trousers.

It was too soon.

‘What’s that?’

She froze.

‘What?’

He stopped what he was doing. ‘I can feel little bits in the bed. Lots of sharp little bits.’

Her heel repair lotion, she realised with sudden horror. The stuff she’d put on to smooth her skin. She couldn’t have washed it all off!

‘I can’t feel them,’ she lied.

He started again but the mood had been broken. She’d hoped they might lie and talk for a bit; kiss a little. Maybe stroke instead of going straight for it. How could this be happening with another man? And yet wasn’t this what she’d wanted?

His skin was warm on hers; it smelt fresh. Lemony. Not like David’s. A huge wave of nostalgic longing for her husband suddenly overwhelmed her. Pushing him away, she sat up, clutching her top to her breasts. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’

Horrified, she watched as his face changed. He looked different. His eyebrows knitted into one and his mouth curled up as though he despised her.

‘Prick teaser!’

‘Hugh! That’s horrible.’

He pushed her back against the bed. Now she was really scared.

‘Just like the others. That’s what you are. You lead a man on and then . . .’

‘Coooeee. Only me! Where are you?’

For a minute, Alison thought she was dreaming. It couldn’t be. And yet it sounded like . . .

‘Caroline!’

Hugh, thank heavens, was clambering off her.

‘Thank God! How did you know where to find me?’

But something was wrong. Very wrong. Her sister wasn’t looking at her. She was looking at Hugh. Then back at her again.

‘What the hell is going on, Simon?’

Simon?

Hugh pursed his lips as he put on a blue silk dressing gown. ‘Hurts, doesn’t it, Caroline. Just like you hurt my sister.’

Alison looked from one to the other. What on earth was he talking about?

‘Remember her?’

Hugh was taking a photograph out of a drawer. ‘Adeline was married to Bruce. I don’t suppose you recall him, do you?’

Wasn’t Bruce that man whom her sister had gone out with a couple of years ago? Who had left his wife for her and then Caroline had left him. Neither she nor David had approved of that.

‘Exactly. And do you know what my sister did, two years ago, after her husband left? She drove to the end of a country lane and took an overdose, leaving this diary as her ‘note’.’

Hugh walked towards Caroline and grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you. I reckon I’ve done that already by sleeping with your sister.’

‘No,’ whispered Alison. ‘He didn’t.’

Caroline looked as though she was going to be sick. ‘How did you meet him – how did you . . .’

‘Through you!’ Hugh was shaking his head with what looked like a wry smile. ‘Internet dating can be dodgy. We both agreed on that. And you said, if I remember correctly, how lucky we were to have found each other on that site.’

His expression grew more serious now. ‘Do you think it was a coincidence? My sister’s diary told me exactly who you were. She hired a private detective who knew your name. She knew where you lived. Then I discovered you’d joined an internet dating site, so I could meet you that way. After that, it was easy. Frighteningly easy. Want to look at it?’

Look at what, Alison wanted to ask but her lips didn’t move. Nor, she noticed, could her sister speak.

‘The diary.’ He opened a drawer behind him and pulled out the slim black book she’d seen him holding before when she’d called in unexpectedly. ‘You’re in here. Every bit of it. Just listen to this.’

‘Bruce said he was working late. Again. I felt sorry for him when he got back that night. His eyes were red with exhaustion. But when he was in the shower, his mobile bleeped. It was her. Again. Don’t know how I can go on. He promised me it was over. He promised.’

‘And then the final entry. The bit after the private detective followed you.’

‘Followed me?’ Caroline spluttered. ‘How dare he?’

‘She. Shut up and listen.’

‘He says it’s over now. That SHE has left HIM. Something about her ‘needing her own space’. And even though I know she did this because of my phone call to her, I suddenly realise that I  have been my own executioner.

Because he still loves her.

I can tell from the dull look in his eyes. I realise that whatever I do this time, won’t work like the others. Because he loved this Caroline. This career woman without children in a smart flat, who drives a convertible. This confident, beautiful woman who is nothing like me.