Topspin (30 page)

“What will you say?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something.”

“Please tell me, Jack. Everyone treats me like I’m an idiot, but I do understand more than you think.”

“Of course you do and I’m not fobbing you off. It’s just that I’m not entirely sure what I will say until the time comes. I will however point out that the majority of them spend all their leisure time at the club and ask them what they plan to do for a social life when it’s no longer there.”

“Won’t they just join other clubs?”

“Easier said than done. The better players will get taken on elsewhere, but so many rabbits want to play tennis nowadays that other places can afford to be as selective as Porchfield about who they offer membership to.”

“Didn’t you say there would be two courts in the proposed development and people would be able to book those?”

“Sure, but we have eight outdoor and two indoor courts at present, remember, and there’s always pressure on those. The residents of the hotel will have first call on the two that remain, and I don’t see much time being left for outside players. So, in spite of all the gloss and spin that Ed and Colin are attempting to put on it, Porchfield Tennis Section will be no more.”

“I bet most people haven’t thought of it in that light.”

“Probably not. They can’t see beyond the money.”

Jack slapped him on the back and headed for the bar. Chris watched him now as he skillfully demolished Ed’s arguments in favor of selling.

“It’s all right for you, Jack,” someone said, “but we’re going to be offered ten thousand quid per share and that’s a lot of money to some of us.”

“It’s chicken shit when you think of what you get out of the club.” He paused for what Chris thought was just the right amount of time. “And have you thought what you’ll do instead?”

“Play somewhere else.”

“Oh yeah? Got anywhere in mind?”

“Well, there are plenty of clubs on the island.”

“All with waiting lists.”

“Yes, but even so…”

In other circumstances Chris would have felt like applauding as he watched Jack turn an initially hostile crowd round to his way of thinking. But he had too much else on his mind. All he wanted was for these people to go away so that he could talk to Jack in private. Something was wrong with his mum. It involved Colin Palmer, and he didn’t know what he ought to do about it. He had to tell someone, but there was no one else he could tell other than Jack. And Jack was too busy to notice him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the meeting broke up and people drifted into smaller groups, discussing their options. Chris was vaguely aware of Ed moving in on them, attempting to reiterate all the benefits of selling, but he didn’t hang about to see how people reacted. Instead he made his way up to Jack’s side.

“Jack, I need your help.”

“What is it?” He placed a hand on Chris’s shoulder and led him aside.

“Something’s going on with Mum.”

Jack scowled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that Colin Palmer’s been looking for her all weekend. I caught him knocking on her door last night. He said he needed to see her about a change in the schedules, which seemed a bit weird because there weren’t any changes. I know because I checked. And now, tonight, he’s in her room. I saw him go in ages ago and…”

Before he’d finished speaking Jack was already halfway out of the door. “Stay here!” he yelled, running in the direction of his mother’s room.

Chris tried to do as Jack asked, but after five minutes of restless pacing, his imagination conjuring up wilder and wilder reasons for Jack’s concern, he scurried after him. He was half-way back to his room when he saw the reassuring figure of his father striding toward him, smiling and holding out his hand.

“I managed to get away after all and thought I’d surprise you.” He shook his son’s hand. “What is it, Chris? You look like the world’s about to end.”

“It’s Mum,” he blurted out. “Something’s wrong.”

His father dropped his bag and ran the rest of the way to his mother’s room. Chris followed in time to see Jack storming out of it, his face a study in concentrated fury. He was talking on his mobile phone and Chris watched the anxiety drain out of his father when he realized who it was.

“You’re imagining things, son,” he called over his shoulder. “It was only Jack.”

Chris tried to speak, to explain, but the words stuck in his throat as he followed his dad into his mother’s room and saw for himself the mayhem inside. He didn’t know much about sex—he’d only had it once and wasn’t sure he’d done it properly then—but even he couldn’t mistake what had been going on in that room. He could smell it. Could tell from the crumpled sheets and the look of abject horror on his mother’s face precisely what they’d almost walked in on.

“Did he force himself on you, darling?” His father cradled his wife’s face gently in both of his hands. Chris looked away, disgusted by the crocodile tears in his mother’s eyes. By the sight of her swollen lips and the manipulative way in which she was handling his father. She clung to him and sobbed on his shoulder, implying through her silence that Jack was responsible for what she’d just voluntarily done with that bastard Palmer.

His father gently loosened her grip and stood up, his eyes bulging with anger. “Jack, of all the people! I never would have believed it. I trusted him more than anyone else on this earth.” He turned toward the door, his face gripped with emotional determination. “I’ll kill the bastard!”

“But, Dad, wait a minute!”

“Stay here with your mother, Chris.”

“No, Dad, you don’t understand.”

But his father wasn’t listening. He flew out of the room like a man demented. Chris had never seen him in such a temper before and was frightened about the damage he might be capable of inflicting at that precise moment. Desperate to put him right before it was too late, he ignored his mother’s pathetic entreaties to stay with her and followed his father. He caught up with him just as he reached Jack, who was leaning against a wall at the end of the corridor, still talking into his phone.

“Jack!”

Jack waved a hand toward Joe, whether in greeting or to silence him as he continued with his call, Chris couldn’t be sure. Powerless to get through to his enraged father, Chris attempted to alert Jack to the danger he was in but he didn’t notice he was there either.

“You bastard, I trusted you!”

Joe wrenched the phone from Jack’s hand and landed a massive blow on his chin. A momentary expression of surprise flickered across Jack’s face. Then his legs crumpled beneath him and he toppled slowly to the floor.

Chapter Fourteen

J
OE
, U
SUALLY
T
HE
M
OST
M
ILD
-M
ANNERED
O
F
M
EN
, had never before known such a feeling of impotence. Of such raw, debilitating fury. His whole world had fallen apart in the past few minutes and right now he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do to put it back together again. Hitting Jack hadn’t made him feel any better about what he’d just seen in his wife’s room and he’d had to walk away before he lost it altogether. Joe wasn’t entirely sure he’d have been able to prevent himself from killing the cheating bastard if he’d hung around and listened to his miserable excuses. Not that there were any excuses for what he’d done, of course. Jack was entirely to blame for the incident, and there wasn’t anything more to be said.

All the same, a tiny voice in the dim recesses of Joe’s brain was clamoring to be heard. Niggling little doubts were emerging as odd incidents in respect of Claire’s recent behavior came back to him. She’d been jumpy and distracted, forgetting to keep appointments, and never at home when he called her from his consulting rooms. Her mobile was often switched off for no apparent reason. And then there’d been that incident at the club when she’d dropped her drink and almost fainted, not to mention her unexplained tears when they’d made love last weekend. None of it added up.

Joe forced himself to consider Jack’s betrayal, bracing himself to withstand the almost debilitating pain that ripped through him as he recalled Claire’s disheveled state, haunted expression and the unmistakable aroma of sexual activity that clung to her. How could he have done it? How could she have let him? The Jack he thought he knew would
never
force himself on a woman, and even if he’d had a temporary aberration, Claire could have screamed merry hell and brought help running. Joe’s features settled into a glacial expression. The more he thought about it, the less sense it all made. It took two to tango, and he needed to find out precisely who’d been leading this particular dance.

Joe left his son to ensure that Jack was still breathing, not giving a shit at that precise moment if he was nor not, and headed swiftly back in the direction of his wife’s room. His thoughts were oscillating wildly. One moment he was almost sure she must be partly to blame for what had happened, the next he clung to her innocence and felt like a rat for having doubted her, however fleetingly. He recalled her stricken expression when he’d walked in and knew he must find a way to make the hurt go away.

How could this have happened? How could he not have seen it coming? He’d always suspected there was a dark side to his friend’s character, something shady about Jack’s past that he’d avoided sharing with Joe. He’d always known for a fact that Jack fancied Claire, too. They’d joked about it often enough. But this? The doubts started to rear their heads again, refusing to be silenced this time. Joe, usually the most decisive of men, no longer knew his own mind. Reaching his wife’s room, he decided he’d had enough of speculation. It was time to extract some honest answers.

Apart from pulling a robe about her, Claire was sitting exactly where he’d left her, huddled in an armchair which swamped her petite body. She was a picture of misery as, arms wrapped around her knees, she stared into space and rocked gently back and forth. A fresh wave of anger hit Joe as tears trickled down her face. He knelt in front of his wife, taking her trembling hands in his.

“It’s all right, darling, we’ll get through this together.” Gently he smoothed her hair. “Do you think you can bear to talk about it? Tell me what happened. What made Jack snap and do such a thing?”

“I don’t know exactly. I think…” Her words trailed off as fresh tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

Joe enfolded her in his arms, feeling angry and impotent. The woman he loved more than life itself had been violated and he didn’t have a clue how to make things right. “It’s all right,” he said again, aware of the inadequacy of the words.

“Why don’t you tell the truth for once, Mother?”

Startled, Joe and Claire both looked up, surprised to see their son leaning against the door jamb. His arms were folded defensively in front of him, his face contorted into a contemptuous expression.

“Go to your room, Chris,” Joe said. “I know you’re upset about what happened to your mother, but this doesn’t concern you.”

He stepped further into the room. “Either you tell him the truth, Mother, or I will.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Color flooded her previously chalk-white face.

“No, of course you don’t.” Chris turned toward his father, the harshness in his voice replaced by a tone that conveyed both sympathy and determination. “Jack didn’t do anything, Dad. That was what I’ve been trying to make you understand.”

“What do you mean?” Joe almost laughed. Chris was obviously as traumatized as his mother. “It
must
have been him. I saw him coming out of this room.”

“Only because I sent him here. I knew someone else had been in here with
her
for far too long for it to have been a social call.” Chris’s scathing glance flickered briefly over his mother and then away again, as though it hurt his eyes to look at her for too long. “But I wasn’t sure what else it could be.” He affected a nonchalance he couldn’t possibly be feeling. “Well, that’s not true, but I desperately hoped I was wrong. I was reluctant to barge in myself, so I asked Jack to help.”

Joe’s emotional state went from disbelieving to confusion and then abject shock, all in the space of a few seconds. “Claire,” he asked, “is this true?”

When she appeared unable to find her voice, Chris spoke again. “Tell him, Mother. Tell the truth for once in your miserable, self-centered life.”

“Go to your room, darling,” Claire said. “I need to talk to your father alone.”

“No chance, this involves me, too.”

“Let him stay,” Joe said, moving away from Claire, his voice hardening. “Are you suggesting there’s any truth in what Chris just said?”

“No, it’s not like that.” She fluttered her hands and let them fall in her lap. “You don’t understand.”

Joe could hear the desperation in her voice and felt his heart solidify. “I think it’s about time you told me exactly what’s going on,” he said.

“It wasn’t Jack,” she said so quietly that Joe had to strain to hear her. He watched her eyes darting about the room, resting everywhere except on his face. “He did only come here to try to help.”