Wonder Women (43 page)

‘It's Mr Benton, Mum. I told you he was coming to do the garden. He's just mowing the lawn.'

‘Mr Benton?'

‘Christopher Benton? From your church?'

‘I know who he is,' said Judith, a little impatiently. ‘Why hasn't he come in to say hello to me?'

Now there was a question Holly didn't know how to answer. Should she mention what Mr Benton had said to her about him and Judith courting? And what about the fact that she had sent him packing? Was it better to play dumb and act as if he was just another friend from church? Holly decided to go for a fairly neutral approach.

‘I think he thought you might not be well enough to see him. He just wanted to do something to help.'

‘Ask him to come in. Please,' said Judith.

Holly couldn't have been more surprised, but she was thrilled. She ran down the stairs and out of the kitchen door. ‘Mr Benton!' she said. ‘My mum is a little better today, and she would love to see you.'

‘Oh no,' he said, flustered. ‘I couldn't possibly. I don't want to intrude … the mud … I wouldn't want to inconvenience …'

‘Mr Benton,' said Holly, patiently but firmly, ‘she's a bit better today' – she leaned on the word ‘today', so he would understand this improvement was very temporary – ‘and she's asked for you, specifically. Please.'

He fussed for a little while longer and then said he would
go to the car to fetch his ‘house shoes' and meet Holly at the back door.

With all the fiddling and faddling and adjusting he did, carefully removing his wellies by the back door, stepping in in his socks, sitting on a kitchen chair (trouser twitch before he sat down), putting on his shoes, tying his laces in perfect bows, asking to use the bathroom so he could wash his hands and comb his hair – Holly was beginning to worry that Judith might have passed on before he was ready. Somehow, eventually, she got him up the stairs and tapped lightly on Judith's door. They both popped their heads around the door, and it made Holly's heart ache to see that Judith had also made a little effort while they had been gone. She had combed her hair as best she could, although it had thinned and got rather long, so it didn't look as neat as it had always done before she got sick. She had also managed to put on a little lipstick and powder. She still looked deathly pale and her thinness was alarming, but she had a little colour and she managed a smile for Mr Benton.

He was very good, Holly thought. He smiled warmly at Judith and looked for all the world as if he had come to a routine afternoon tea party. He didn't allow himself to look shocked or sad at her appearance. He came over and took her hand, lightly holding her fingertips in a courtly, old-fashioned way, and inclined his head.

‘So sorry I can't get up,' Judith said.

‘Not at all,' said Mr Benton. ‘It's very good to see you, Judith.'

‘How have you been, Christopher?' she said. ‘Do pull up a chair.'

He looked around and drew the stool from Judith's dressing table close to her chair. ‘Not too bad,' he said. ‘Just been out in the garden. Your lupins are coming on a treat.'

‘Really?' said Judith. ‘I'd have thought the snails would have got them.'

‘Ah, they might have, but I make up this spray myself … one part Fairy Liquid, three parts water, and a secret ingredient. Keeps the snails right away!'

Judith managed a little laugh, the first one Holly had heard from her in months. ‘Ah, now, Christopher. You'll have to tell me what the secret ingredient is. You can't keep me in suspense!'

Holly took a step or two back, towards the door. Neither of them seemed aware that she was there at all.

‘Er …' she said softly, ‘I'll go and make some tea, shall I?' But they had moved on to the best ways to encourage tomato plants to flower, and didn't hear her. She went downstairs slowly, and took her time making a pot of tea. When she crept back upstairs with it, she found Mr Benton quietly reading one of the classical-music reviews in
The Times
aloud to Judith. She put the tea tray down on the side table and slipped out again.

He came every day after that, and his company made an enormous difference. Judith made the effort to be up and dressed to see him if she possibly could, and he paid her compliments and made her smile. If she was too tired to get out of bed, he would draw a chair up close and read to her until she fell asleep. Holly found it very touching to watch them together, and she wished with all her heart that Judith had not sent him away all those months ago. They had lost
so much time, and she was happy to see her mum experiencing some affection, and – dare she call it that? – love, in these last months of her life. She remembered the stack of letters she had seen in her mum's jewellery box. Were they love letters from Mr Benton? They must have been.

*

Holly wondered if there was any way Mr Benton might sit with her mum for an evening, so she could finally get out to see Fraser, but she didn't know how to ask him. He saved her the bother however. On the Thursday afternoon, he came down to find her in the kitchen. ‘Oh, Holly,' he said, deferentially, ‘I am so sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering whether you would mind my bringing a portable television here to put in Judith's room?'

Holly could have kicked herself. Why had she never thought of giving her mum a TV in the bedroom? ‘There's no need to bring a portable one, Mr Benton. We could just move the set from the living room up to the bedroom. No one watches it downstairs.'

‘Are you sure?' He looked very pleased. ‘Only I noticed they're showing
Brief Encounter
on the television on Sunday evening, and it's a film we – Judith and I – very much enjoyed watching together once before. I thought perhaps she might like to see it again. It wouldn't inconvenience you for me to be here on a Sunday evening, would it?'

‘Oh no …'

‘I thought perhaps you might like to take the opportunity to go out … see some friends perhaps? I could cook Judith a light supper …'

‘That would be brilliant!' Holly leapt on his offer with
alacrity before he changed his mind. It was a win–win situation. The elderly lovebirds would get an evening to themselves, and she could see Fraser. ‘I'll get the television moved upstairs this afternoon!'

She ran to her room and sent Fraser a quick text message: ‘I'm a free agent on Sunday evening. I can't stay out all night, but I'm sure we could get some things on our to-do list done in a few hours …'

He rang her immediately. ‘Oh my God, you mean I actually get to see you?' he said excitedly.

‘All of me, baby, all of me,' she giggled. He groaned at that.

‘I can't wait. Listen, I've got Finlay for the weekend, but Lindsay's due to collect him from mine at five on Sunday. Can you get to me by six? Can you be naked by five past? Can I kiss you all over?'

‘Yes, yes and yes. Can't wait.'

‘Me neither,' he said. ‘You have no idea.'

She was nervous about leaving Judith, but her mum was very encouraging. ‘Go, have a nice time,' she said, when Holly tentatively said she was going to see Fraser. ‘You've been stuck in this house day after day, looking after me. Christopher and I will watch the film and I'll be asleep by nine, I'm sure.'

Holly felt better after she said that, and she told herself that Mr Benton had her mobile number and she would be a twenty-minute drive away if she was needed. She was jittery and excited on the Sunday afternoon, and spent ages trying to choose what to wear. It didn't seem to matter terribly much, as Fraser had made it clear that whatever she was
wearing was going to end up on the floor as soon as she came through the door. In the end, she went for a simple white cotton dress, a pretty lacy bra and matching knickers. She showered, plucked and primped, and was ready by five, then paced up and down, her stomach full of butterflies.

She checked her watch. Five thirty. If she drove slowly, she'd be at Fraser's bang on time. But she didn't need to worry about driving slowly, as it turned out. The traffic was appalling, and instead of getting there early, she began to worry she was going to be late. She was stuck for ages at a set of temporary traffic lights, and she grabbed her phone to let him know she was delayed, only to see that she had no signal at all. Well, she'd get there eventually. Luckily the traffic eased as soon as she got through the temporary lights, and she was outside Fraser's by five past six. She parked and hurried to the door, trying not to look too flustered in case he was watching from the window. She pressed the bell, and he buzzed her straight in.

She ran up the stairs to his flat, and saw he had left the front door ajar. Maybe he was already in the bedroom. She stepped through the door, closed it behind her and leaned against it. ‘Right, Dr John,' she called out. ‘I'm wearing a flimsy white dress, I'm carrying a pack of twelve ultra-sheer condoms and I'm kicking off my knickers … right now.' She reached up under her skirt and started to shimmy her pants down over her hips. She heard the kitchen door open, and looked up, expecting to see Fraser emerging carrying a bottle of champagne, or maybe wearing an apron and nothing else. Instead she saw … Lindsay.

She had to assume this was Lindsay: she was the same
height and build as the woman she had seen in the doorway at Christmas, all those months ago. And what other woman would be in Fraser's flat? Holly, ever dignified, pulled her knickers back up and let her skirt fall.

‘I imagine I'm not the Dr John you were expecting,' said the woman coolly. This was definitely Lindsay then. She looked Holly up and down slowly, and then said, ‘Fraser rang to say that he had a flat tyre and he and Finlay had been delayed. I assume he didn't get hold of you …?'

Holly, who hadn't said anything since her unforgettable condoms-and-knickers pronouncement, fumbled in her bag for her phone. Sure enough, there were five missed calls and two text messages from Fraser, all of which had come through since she left the signal black hole. ‘No,' she said simply. There didn't seem to be much else to say.

‘And you are …?' Lindsay said. She had a rather superior attitude that made Holly feel as if she'd been sent to the headmistress's office.

‘Holly. Holly Evans,' she said, with more confidence than she felt. Part of her was mortified at the situation, and very aware that this woman was Fraser's wife and the mother of his child, and had been part of his life for a very long time. But another part of her was furious at Lindsay's high-handed manner. Fraser was her boyfriend (was he?) and she had every right to be here.

‘And tell me, Holly Evans,' said Lindsay icily, ‘do you make a habit of fucking other women's husbands?'

‘What?' said Holly. She was properly angry now. ‘You can't talk to me like that. Fraser isn't your husband any more …'

‘I think you'll find he is.'

‘You're legally separated …'

‘We've had a brief trial separation and we're in the process of getting back together again, I think you'll find.'

‘That's not what Fraser—'

‘Told you? Well, I'm sorry, my dear, but you've been fed a line. We separated because he has a tendency to play away … silly little dalliances, nothing serious, but I found it hurtful. We're working through it, and he's been seeing a therapist … they're calling it sex addiction. Very American, isn't it?'

‘That's not how he …'

‘He told you we were having marital difficulties and were seeing a counsellor, didn't he? That's one of his favourite pick-up lines. Come on,' she said, looking at Holly with pity. ‘You're a big, grown-up girl. A married man feeds you the “my wife doesn't understand me” sob story, and you believe him?'

Holly stared at Lindsay. What an idiot she had been. After Damon, she vowed she'd never get taken in by a man with a clever story again. But Fraser had been so convincing … all the bumbling, sweet talk about not having had a date in ages, about not having had sex …

As if she could read Holly's mind, Lindsay said coolly, ‘He's probably also told you we haven't slept together in ages. But just so you know, I was here last night and we had sex. As we have throughout the separation. He's never been able to resist me.'

And to be fair, she was beautiful. She was wearing a slim-fitting black linen dress and her hair was a sheet of ebony. She made Holly, in her cotton frock and sandals, feel gauche
and scruffy. ‘They're on their way back now,' Lindsay said. ‘It's probably best if you're not here, don't you think? I don't really want to introduce my husband's latest bit on the side to my seven-year-old son.'

Holly, who had not moved from her position by the front door, fumbled behind her and opened the door. The thought of bumping into Fraser and Finlay on the stairs or in the street was too awful to contemplate. She ran out of the building, fumbling in her handbag for her keys, and flung herself into the car. She roared off as fast as she dared, and as she swung around the corner into the main road, she saw Fraser in his clunky old car, coming the other way. He didn't see her – why would he be looking? And anyway, he had no idea what car she would be driving. The sight of his handsome profile, even though it was just for an instant, made her feel such a fool. How had she fallen for his lies? What an idiot she was. An idiot and a liability to herself.

She was home by six forty-five. Christopher and her mum were still watching the film. She tried to creep up to her bedroom as quietly as she could, but Christopher popped his head out of her mum's room. ‘Hello, Holly,' he said, surprised. ‘We weren't expecting you back for hours!'

‘My plans fell through.' She managed a weak smile.

‘What a pity,' he said gallantly. ‘You look very pretty. Well, the gentleman's loss, I say. Why don't you come in and join us? The film is still on, I've just made some tea and I took the liberty of bringing Judith some of my home-made Bakewell tart. She doesn't have much of an appetite, as you know, so you'd do me a great service by having a slice.'