Starlight (29 page)

‘He did tell me he was worried about her,' Jess said after a pause. ‘He thought she seemed different. Towards him, he meant.'

‘He's been confiding in you?'

‘We were sort of confiding in each other.'

‘So . . . what did you say? About Marguerite?'

‘I told him no' to worry.' Jess drank coffee gloomily. ‘Said I was sure she hadn't changed, or we'd have heard about it. Now I wish I hadn't said anything.'

‘You had to say what you thought.'

‘Well, I never in this world dreamed there was another man, Sally. But the way they were on the platform – it's no new thing, is it? I think it's been going on a long time.'

‘Can't go on much longer, if you ask me. These things always come to a head sooner or later. And if Ben's already suspicious, he'll probably have it out with Marguerite and then she'll have to make a decision. About what she wants to do.'

‘You don't think she'd leave him?' Jess asked fearfully, her heart thumping.

‘I think it's quite on the cards.' Sally's tone was matter-of-fact. ‘Listen, do you think it'd be greedy to order another teacake? They're really generous with the butter here, eh?'

Fortified by the coffee and food, Jess agreed in the end to go shopping with Sally, though her heart was not in it. Try as she would to take an interest in the sales, she found her thoughts constantly returning to that scene in the station, when she had seen her sister with a man who was not Ben.

But what could she do? Not tell Ben himself, that was for sure. Even to think of seeing him again, meeting his dark gaze, making small talk, sent her heart plummeting. When she knew what she knew.

He had been so sympathetic about Rusty's refusal to seek help. Had tried his best to cheer her up, to find some sort of hope, while his own life, though he didn't know it, was crumbling to pieces around him.

All she could do, Jess decided, was to speak to Marguerite. Surely she couldn't really be contemplating leaving Ben for the man with the handlebar moustache?

While Jess moved unseeingly around the stores, Sally got into conversation with the saleswomen. One older woman, amazingly well made up, considering that cosmetics were so hard to find, seemed determined to get Sally into one of her bargains, while Sally remained just as determined not to buy.

‘Thing is, there's no' much here that gets my fancy,' she confided. ‘Maybe I'd best wait for these new fashions I've been reading about.'

‘What new fashions?' the saleswoman asked frostily. ‘What we have is the latest thing, Madam, though much reduced, of course, in price.'

‘Well, I did hear that there was something new going to hit us all very soon. All hush-hush, seemingly, but definitely on its way. Some Frenchman's idea, they say.'

‘Most fashion ideas come from Paris, Madam, but I can promise you that anything you buy here will be absolutely right. Now, would you perhaps like to try one or two things on?'

‘Sorry, we have to be going – our train, you know. Thanks all the same!'

With an apologetic smile, Sally, grasping Jess's arm, moved smoothly towards the lift.

‘Hate being pressured,' she whispered. ‘Though I suppose these folk have got their job to do.'

‘Had you really heard about new fashions?' Jess asked, trying to show interest.

‘Sure I had! Looks like we'll all be wearing skirts to our ankles before the year is out. Suits me, seeing as my legs are as plump as ever. But, listen, Jess, weren't you going to ring Ben, to ask if everything was OK?'

‘Oh, I don't think I need, Sally. We'll be back soon.'

‘You'll have to speak to him some time, dear.'

Not before I've spoken to Marguerite, thought Jess.

Fifty-Four

At coffee time the following morning, Jess worked on at her desk, waiting for the knock on her door she knew would come. Sure enough, when she had just given another glance at her watch, the light tap sounded.

‘Come in!' she called, and rose, as Marguerite put her head round the door.

‘Got your note,' she said coolly. ‘What's all this about?'

‘Take a seat, Marguerite. I just want a word.'

‘It had better be quick, my break's nearly over.'

Marguerite, in her waitress's uniform, complete with cap, came slowly forward to take the interview chair. As she sat down, the light from the window fell full on her face, and Jess thought, as she so often did: She's just like Ma, isn't she? Never grows any older. See, hasn't a line on her brow . . .

‘Jess, can you get on with it, whatever it is?' her sister asked irritably. ‘I did say I'd to be back soon.'

Jess sat back, her mouth a little dry.

‘Thing is, Marguerite, Sally and I went to Glasgow yesterday.'

Only the slightest flicker of her lovely eyes betrayed Marguerite's reaction.

‘So?' she asked lightly.

‘So, we saw you. On the platform. Meeting someone.'

Marguerite hesitated for a moment, then pulled off her cap and sat with it in her hand.

‘All right, you saw me. What do you want me to say?'

‘I want you to tell me what's going on, that's all.'

‘Is it any of your business?'

‘I'm family, aren't I? Apart from that, I'm thinking about Ben.'

‘Naturally.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?' Jess asked, flushing.

‘Just what it sounds like. Naturally, this affects Ben.'

‘Well, I'm glad to hear you say so. But who is this fellow you're meeting, Marguerite? How long has it been going on?'

Marguerite looked down at her cap and shrugged. ‘I suppose I might as well tell you. His name's Guy Powrie. I met him during the war, when he was a Squadron Leader. Now he's with his father's law firm in Glasgow.'

‘You've kept up with him all this time?'

‘No, we just met up again about six months ago. In the cafe, when he'd come over for the day on business.' Marguerite gave a little smile. ‘Said he couldn't believe his luck.'

‘Oh, Marguerite!'

‘All right, I feel bad about Ben. I'm no' going to try to make excuses. But these things happen, eh?'

‘You and Ben,' Jess said slowly, ‘you were so much in love . . .'

‘Too much so.' Marguerite stood up. ‘Doesn't last, that sort of love.' She gave Jess a long hard look. ‘What are you going to do, then?'

‘Me? Nothing. It's you who's got to decide what to do.'

‘Are you going to tell Ben?'

‘No. I'm hoping he needn't know. I mean, if you break it off with this lawyer fellow.'

‘I won't be doing that.'

‘You're going to keep on seeing him? Marguerite, you can't. Ben has his suspicions. He told me you seemed different towards him.'

‘Did he?' Marguerite smoothed her hair and put on her cap. ‘Always the bright one, Ben. Looks like I'd better tell him what's happening.'

‘What is happening?' Jess cried desperately. ‘Marguerite, what are you going to do?'

Already at the door, her sister looked back.

‘Jess, I'm going to ask Ben for a divorce. It's the honest thing to do, eh? Oh, don't look like that! It's no' the end of the world. I'm sure he's just as sick of me as I'm sick of him. We were just honeymoon people, really – never meant to be lifetime partners.'

As soon as she heard the door click on Marguerite, Jess bounded out of her chair and ran after her.

‘Marguerite, wait!'

‘Oh, what now, Jess?'

‘I was just wondering – when are you going to tell Ben, then?'

‘Oh, heavens, I don't know. Sometime soon. I want to get things settled.'

‘And what about Ma?'

For the first time, Marguerite seemed flustered, her lip trembling, her colour rising.

‘I'll tell her – when the time's right, I suppose.'

‘She's going to be upset.'

‘Yes, but what can I do? It's my life.'

‘Folk in her day stayed married, that's the thing.'

‘And were miserable. Things are different now.'

‘Still difficult, getting a divorce. And expensive.'

Marguerite, recovering her poise, smiled a little.

‘I'll have expert help. Guy's father specializes in divorce.'

‘Best of luck, then,' Jess said curtly. ‘Let me know how things go.'

‘You wouldn't come with me, would you? When I tell Ma?'

‘No, I wouldn't. This is something you want, Marguerite, you can tell her yourself.'

Back in her office, Jess sat down at her desk, but she couldn't stop thinking of Ben and wondering how he would face Marguerite's news. He would be devastated, she was sure, for it clearly wasn't true that he was as tired of Marguerite as she was tired of him. He still loved her, as had been proved by the way he'd talked of his worries about her. If only Jess hadn't reassured him!

‘You think I'm worrying about nothing?' he'd asked, and she'd been quick to tell him it was only a post-war problem that many people were facing. What a mistake! But, to be fair, how could she have told him anything else, when she hadn't then seen Marguerite with the other man? She'd thought Ben and her sister were still lovebirds, just going through a bad patch. Like her and Rusty.

No, not like her and Rusty. For them, the golden days were over, their happiness having melted away, killed, perhaps, by the stress of war. Or maybe would have died anyway. Now, they were facing life alone, for even if they hadn't so far parted, Jess never felt these days that she and Rusty were together. Only Marguerite had the promise of a new love and a new life. At what cost, though? At what cost?

Another tap sounded on her door. Marguerite returned?

But it was only Edie, come to collect the letters for typing.

‘Oh, Edie, I'm sorry, I haven't finished them! Just give me a few minutes and I'll bring 'em through.'

‘You OK, Jess?' Edie asked kindly.

‘Bit of a headache, that's all.'

‘Want an aspirin?'

‘No – it's going off, thanks.'

‘I'll bring you another cup of tea.'

‘That'd be grand.'

And as Edie departed, Jess put on her professional hat and got down to the letters she should have finished some time before. Personal life, she thought, that's out. I'm supposed to be at work. But as she later sipped the tea Edie brought her, Ben's sombre gaze still filled her mind and would not fade.

Fifty-Five

Two days passed, during which Jess waited with heavy heart for the inevitable, while Marguerite kept out of her way and Sally's large blue sympathetic eyes kept meeting hers, expressing her wonder at what was going on.

So far, Jess had not told anyone of Marguerite's plans, not even Rusty, though she might have told him if he'd ever come home at a reasonable time when they could have discussed it together. As it was, he only came in to go to bed, where he fell instantly asleep, while Jess lay awake, her thoughts churning, until she had to get up to make tea and sit in the kitchen, wishing she was one who could smoke a cigarette to calm her nerves.

Sometimes she asked herself why she should be so very concerned for Ben. Was it that she was afraid to think of him a free man? Unattached? No, no, she just didn't want him to be hurt, that was all. But underneath her disclaimers, she knew there was that knowledge that he would no longer be her sister's husband. And though that should make no difference, she knew that it might, and shied away from thinking about it.

On the evening of the third day, when Jess had still heard nothing from Ben or her sister, she was astonished to find her mother on her doorstep when she arrived home from work.

‘Ma, what are you doing here?' she asked, fumbling with her key, but one look at Addie's reddened eyelids had already told her all she needed to know.

‘Ah, don't tell me you don't know!' Addie cried, sweeping into the house. ‘Oh, Jess!'

For some moments, they clung together, until Addie pulled herself away to sit in a chair with a handkerchief pressed to her eyes.

‘Oh, to think of it, Jess. A divorce in our family and our lovely girl to be the one to want it! I tell you, when she met me out of work this afternoon, I couldn't take in what she was telling me. I couldn't believe it. Marguerite, splitting up with Ben? It just wasn't possible.'

‘I know, I know, Ma.' Jess had put on the kettle and was setting out cups and saucers. ‘I felt the same, when she told me, but there it is – it's what she's going to do.'

‘I always wanted her to make a good marriage, you know, because she's no' like you, Jess – you'd get on anyway, but she'd need a good provider. And she was that attractive, I thought she might meet somebody with family money. A professional man, maybe, who'd give her what she should have.'

‘Well, she didn't do too badly with Ben,' Jess remarked. ‘He's got a settled job and they've a nice house. They're luckier than a lot of folk, I'd say.'

‘Aye, but he was never right for her, Jess! He was never what she was looking for.'

‘And what you were looking for, from the sound of it.'

‘Never mind me, then.' Addie rattled her teacup. ‘Are you no' going to make that tea?'

‘Ready now.' Jess filled her cup. ‘There, that'll make you feel better.'

‘No, it won't.' Addie drank it, anyway. ‘It'll take more than a cup of tea to cheer me up, eh? When I know my girl's going to take herself through the divorce courts.'

‘You did say Ben was never right for her.'

‘So, she made a mistake. But if you take marriage vows, Jess, you keep 'em. Chopping and changing – where would it end?'

Jess studied her mother for a moment or two.

‘Ironic, though, that the fellow she's met is just what you'd have wanted for her in the first place. A professional man. Family money in the background. A good provider. Shouldn't mind too much, Ma, if Marguerite gets it right second time?'