The Watcher (14 page)

‘Close the door, will you? It’s not exactly a warm summer’s night out there, darling!’

John Burton came up to her just when she thought she was going to chicken out. She had almost hoped that he had already left, as she was three quarters of an hour late. It flattered her that he had waited, although her stomach knotted up too.

‘Nice that you’ve come,’ he said. He took her coat and put his hand on her arm whilst leading her to a little corner table on which stood two glasses of wine. ‘I hope this table is OK?’

‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry I’m so late. We don’t leave Becky on her own at home yet, so I had to wait for my husband to get in.’

In fact, Tom had come home early. She had told him in the morning that she was meeting Tara and he had kept to their agreement without a grumble. In such cases he would come home as early as possible, so that Gillian could get away in time.

But she had hummed and hawed. And asked herself why she felt so uncertain. John Burton was her daughter’s tennis coach. He had invited her out for a glass of wine. Not in his house but in a pub – a public house. Nothing more to it. It was ridiculous to get so worked up about it.

Tara, whom she had talked to on the phone during her lunch break, to get her alibi set, had hit the nail on the head. ‘If there’s nothing more to it, then why don’t you just tell your husband the truth? Why do you need me?’

‘He might start to imagine something.’

‘And what are you imagining?’

‘Tara . . .’

Tara had laughed. ‘Listen, darling. You don’t have to justify yourself to me. And you can use me as an excuse for Tom. I don’t mind at all if you jump into bed tonight with this dream man. Just don’t expect it – an affair – to solve your problems. It might give you a nice thrill. Nothing more.’

‘I’m not jumping into bed with him!’

Tara did not reply to that, but Gillian suddenly understood exactly what people meant when they talked about eloquent silence.

In the end she did go. She did not want to look like a coward. She decided to wear jeans and a jumper, to brush her hair neatly and put on a little lipstick, but other than that she was not made up. Burton was not to think that she was making a great effort for him. In any case, she had to ensure Tom did not suspect anything. She had never got all dolled up to meet Tara.

Once they had sat down, they clinked glasses. ‘They have surprisingly good wine here. And if you are hungry, we can—’

She immediately interrupted him – she really could not think about eating right now: ‘No, thank you. A drink is fine.’

She took a sip. She liked the taste of the wine, but more than anything its soothing effect on her nerves was good. She felt a little more relaxed now.

‘How’s Becky?’ asked John.

Gillian shook her head. ‘Nothing new. She just doesn’t get on well with me right now. When I told her this morning that I was going out tonight, she cheered up. She loves eating supper and watching a bit of TV alone with her dad. I try not to think about it, but it does hurt.’

‘I think that many girls have a phase where they are very close to their dad. Where their mum is in the way. But that will change again. Suddenly you’ll be the one she’s telling all her secrets to and her dad won’t have a clue what’s going on. Then one morning the boy who’s just spent the night with his daughter will be coming out of the bathroom and he’ll wonder what else he’s missed.’

‘That all sounds so simple when you talk about it.’

John shrugged. ‘People today seem to make such a drama out of bringing up kids. Sometimes they just need to be given some space.’

‘Sometimes that can be fatal.’

‘There’s not a single right way to do things,’ admitted John.

Gillian changed the topic. ‘By the way, officially I’m spending the evening with my friend Tara right now. I’ve just told my husband that I’m meeting her.’

‘You lied to him?’

‘Yes.’

‘I get the impression you don’t do that often.’

Gillian took a quick gulp of red wine and asked herself why she had said so much.
Just don’t start to lead him on, or flirt with him or something like that. It’s not you!

‘No. Of course not. But I . . . just didn’t want any hassle.’

‘He would have minded you meeting me, then. That’s clear.’

‘Wouldn’t you mind, if you were in his place?’

‘I’m not married. Out of choice. So that I don’t have to deal with such awkward situations.’

‘It was just easier to say that I was going out with Tara,’ said Gillian.

For a while neither of them said anything. In the end Gillian asked, ‘Why did you want to meet me? I mean, our last meeting can’t have been any great shakes for you.’

‘Why not?’

‘I was crying, mainly. I told you a few banal problems. Nothing to write home about.’

He looked at her, thinking about what she had just said. ‘I didn’t see you as a woman with banal problems.’

‘As what, then?’

‘As a very attractive woman with a few problems. And who doesn’t have a few problems?’

‘I had the impression that you were annoyed.’

‘I wasn’t annoyed. Distracted, maybe. You talked about something I didn’t want to talk about.’

‘Leaving the police.’

‘Right,’ he said, and his expression changed.

This time Gillian was smart enough not to push him on it. ‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she said. ‘Why meet me today?’

He smiled. ‘I have. I did answer it.’

She waited.

‘I just said you’re a very attractive woman,’ he explained.

‘That’s why?’

‘To be honest – yes.’

His directness was disarming. Gillian had to laugh. ‘I’m married.’

‘I know.’

‘And where’s this to lead?’

‘That’s up to you,’ said John. ‘After all, you’re the one who’s married. You have a family. You have to pretend to be meeting a friend to meet me. You have to decide how far you want to go.’

‘Maybe I just want to finish my wine and then go home.’

‘Maybe,’ said John, and smiled again.

There was something arrogant about his smile, as if he did not believe that she would just go home. John Burton suddenly seemed like an old hand going through the motions and she had the feeling she was being manipulated. He was probably just working through a tried and tested routine, cleverly blowing hot and cold, making indifferent comments one moment and then adding a tempting suave smile at the right moment. She thought back to the Christmas party at the tennis club, when the other mums were puzzling over the good-looking coach’s love life. He probably did not have a long-term partner in his life and nor was that what he wanted. He seduced whoever crossed his path and whom he took a liking to, had brief affairs and then turned to the next object of his desires.

Gillian was aware that she had no exact idea of what she wanted, but at least it was clear to her at the moment what she did not want: to be one more conquest notched up by an attractive Don Juan. She drank the last of her wine and refused another glass.

‘Not for me, thanks. Nice to have a chat, John. I think I’ll go home now.’

He looked surprised. ‘Already?’

She stood up. ‘Yes. I’ve made my decision.’

He also stood up, but she had already grabbed her coat off the hook and was out of the door before she had time to put it on. After the stuffy atmosphere inside, it was wonderful to feel the fresh air. Gillian enjoyed the coolness and the quiet outside. The beach and the river were right in front of her. She saw the deep dark water and heard the quiet gurgling of the waves. She smelt saltwater and seaweed. She slipped into her coat. Suddenly a giant weight fell from her soul. What had she been thinking, coming here?

She had almost reached her car, which was parked along the road, when John Burton appeared behind her. He was slightly out of breath. ‘Just wait,’ he said. ‘Good God, you sprint along!’

‘I wasn’t waiting for you,’ said Gillian and opened her car door with the beeper. She wanted to get in the car but John held her arm.

‘What did I do wrong?’ he asked.

‘In principle, probably nothing,’ explained Gillian. ‘It’s just – I don’t want to.’

‘What don’t you want? To have a drink with me? To talk to me?’

‘I don’t want to lie to my husband and daughter. I don’t want to get into anything that would mean I had to.’

‘You already lied to your husband today.’

‘Bad enough. I don’t need to do it again.’

‘Wait,’ he pleaded. ‘Please. Don’t just get in your car and drive off. I’m sorry if I acted stupid and blasé.’ He batted away whatever she was about to say. ‘No, I did. I wanted to look like a real charmer and probably that annoyed you. Which is understandable. I’m sorry. There’s nothing else I can say. Really. I’m sorry.’

‘That’s all right. It’s just . . .’

‘. . . just that you won’t give me a second chance.’

‘John, you’ve got to understand . . .’

‘Can we sit in your car for a bit?’ he asked. ‘It’s rather cold, and who knows who could hear us here on the street.’

‘OK,’ agreed Gillian. She sat down behind the wheel and John slipped into the passenger seat.

‘I find you fascinating,’ he said. ‘And I want to see you again. I’m assuming you’ve already realised that. I know that the circumstances are not ideal. Nevertheless, I just can’t get you out of my head. I tried this past weekend. I can’t.’

‘I’m sure there are enough women who can be there to comfort you,’ said Gillian.

He looked right into her eyes. The expression on his face was utterly serious. And honest. ‘No,’ he said. ‘There aren’t. Maybe that doesn’t match the rumours about me, but it’s true. There are no other women.’

‘The club’s mums think you’re an incorrigible seducer.’

‘Great. But it’s not true. My last relationship finished over a year ago and since then I’ve been celibate as a monk.’

‘You’re hardly rusty when it comes to trying to pull a woman.’

‘If I really was in practice, I would have noticed I was coming across badly. I’ve already said sorry, Gillian. I just wanted to look cool. It was idiotic of me.’

‘You act all mysterious.’

‘What do you want to know? I’ll tell you!’ It almost looked like he was begging. ‘I don’t want to hide anything from you.’

‘Why did you leave the police?’

He lifted both hands helplessly. ‘Oh God. You’re persistent about that, aren’t you?’

‘I’m interested,’ said Gillian.

‘All right,’ he said, resigned. ‘Although you’ll probably throw me out of the car when I tell you. And take your daughter out of the club.’

‘Doesn’t sound good.’

‘No. Eight years ago I was reported for sexual assault. The young woman was an intern working for me. The prosecution dropped the case because there wasn’t any evidence. I was never charged. But I couldn’t stay there, so I went. Happy now?’

She looked at him, shocked.

When she turned into the drive, a shadow moved across the path to the front door. Tom.

‘I heard the car,’ he explained, ‘and thought I’d . . .’

She locked the car. ‘What?’

‘I thought I’d come out to meet you,’ he said, and smiled.

Tom’s concern was touching. She often had the impression that he would rather be married to their company than to her, and that his second choice would be his tennis club. However, there were moments when she felt the warmth that they had shared years ago and which was still there, hidden under the layers of daily life. Yet tonight she would rather do without it.

She felt Tom observing her from the side.

What was he seeing? she wondered anxiously. What was he thinking?

Similar thoughts were going through Tom’s head. He looked at Gillian with her long, somewhat chaotic hair and the fine silhouette of her face. He saw the woman he had known for over twenty years. He had got to know her as a student and soon had been unable to imagine living without her. It had been a long time since he had felt her presence as intensely as he did this evening. He had felt a sudden uneasiness, which had driven him out of his warm living room into the cold when he thought he heard the engine of their car.

Worried, he wondered why he had been uneasy.

Gillian had been nineteen when she started university, and she had fascinated him from the first moment he saw her. She was different to the other girls – not only because of her eye-catching wild hair. There was also something old-fashioned about her that made her stand out. She was the only child of overly protective parents who had warned her throughout her childhood and youth of the many dangers of the big bad world. Her time at university gave her the feeling of freedom for the first time. She had chosen Glasgow, although she was from Norwich. One single thought had been decisive in her choice, as she later admitted to Tom: to put enough distance between her parents and herself so that her mother could not come swooping in to check on her.

Gillian had seemed unsure of herself, often hesitant and inexperienced, but the joy she took in life could be felt behind her shyness. Until university her mother had managed to keep such a close eye on her that no man had ever managed to be alone with her. This had also undermined her self-confidence. Most girls had steady boyfriends by the time they were sixteen. She had no idea whether she even made an impression on men, let alone what impression.

But then Tom had come along and pretty much laid siege until she surrendered. Very soon they were an item. Suddenly Gillian blossomed – not just because of this good-looking young man, the university’s star tennis player, but also because she discovered her own strength and what she was capable of. She realised that in spite of her mother’s warnings, life was not threatening so much as an exciting challenge. She was loved by her fellow students and her lecturers, got good marks, and danced away the nights at the weekends. When she got a summer job at a film production company after graduation, the company did not want to let her go. They offered her a permanent contract and gave her real responsibility. After a little while, she was in charge of all the budgeting for their projects. She seemed to be aglow at that time.

That’s changed, thought Tom. And maybe that’s why I’m worried. She doesn’t glow any more. She doesn’t beam.