A Bouquet of Barbed Wire (32 page)

His tone made it clear that saying any such thing was out of the question. She said, ‘No, no, it’s just … well, it’s just rather like winning the pools, you don’t know what to do with the money. And you go on doing the coupon in a kind of daze.’

She felt him relax. ‘What do you want to do?’

She hesitated. ‘Would it … would it be all right if I went to see my sister?’

‘Good heavens, is that all? Yes, of course. I’ll drive you … where does she live?’

‘No.’ Too prompt. ‘No, really, there’s no need for that. It’s sweet of you but—’

‘You don’t want me to meet her. She doesn’t know—’

‘Yes, she does. I just—’

‘You want to go by yourself.’

‘Yes.’ God, was it such a crime?

‘Well, of course you must go.’ He let go of her hands.

‘I won’t be very long.’

‘Darling, it doesn’t matter how long you are. I’ve got plenty to do.’

‘It’s just … that I haven’t seen her for a while.’

‘Of course. I understand perfectly.’

The atmosphere was unmistakable. She mooched around, doing her face, getting her coat, being much too slow because she was afraid to be too quick. He read the paper. She felt him observantly behind it all the time.

‘Do you want to phone her before you go?’

‘She’s not on the phone.’

* * *

She went round the corner and phoned Simon. The number rang for a long time. Finally he answered, sounding sleepy.

‘Simon, it’s me.’

‘Oh, Sarah.’ There was a long pause. ‘How are you?’ He sounded different but she could not pinpoint the difference.

‘When did you get back?’

‘Oh … a few days ago.’

‘Did you have a good time?’

‘Yes. Yes, it was nice.’

‘Are you brown?’

‘Yes, quite.’

‘Well.’ Really he was being extraordinary. ‘Didn’t Annabel give you my new number?’

‘No. That is—’

‘You didn’t ring.’ Suddenly it was all clear. ‘Simon, I’m sorry, I’m being stupid. You’ve got someone there. Shall I call back another time?’

Another long pause. ‘Well, it might be better if I ring you.’

‘No. Better not.’

‘Oh, I see. You’re in the same boat.’ He sounded relieved.

She wanted to shout, ‘Help me, Simon. I need help,’ but she choked on the words and turned them in a cough.

‘Are you all right?’ he said with all the old concern.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Well, give me your address and I’ll write.’

She gave it to him, knowing it would be no good, and he whistled softly as he took it down. ‘That’s rather grand, isn’t it?’

She laughed.

‘Well, I’ll write then. Look, I’m sorry about this.’ He sounded embarrassed.

She thought what a fool she had been not to know. No postcards, that should have been enough to tell her. He had met some girl and she was there now. It had been bound to happen someday. Was she so conceited that she had imagined he would always be there when she needed him? Lovely Simon, brother and friend, I wouldn’t mind sharing you. But losing you hurts.

She said, ‘Don’t give it a thought.’

* * *

She went back to the car and got in. She had never intended to visit Barbara; she knew exactly what Barbara would say. So she headed for the M4 and when she got on it put her foot down hard.

Speed was soothing. She got in the fast lane and stayed there, doing about eighty. She personalised the car, making it glad to see her, like a long-neglected dog being taken for a walk. That was what they both needed. Fresh air and exercise. She switched on the radio and accelerated with the music, shutting out everything else. Don’t think, just go with it. Music and speed. Trouble is, eventually you have to go back.

For about ten minutes, perfect euphoria. Then on one of her routine glances in the mirror the blue bulb on the Jaguar behind her. Oh God. And she was doing ninety, more. Christ, what luck. She could not even hear over the radio if the siren was blowing or not. She slowed down, pulled over, and over again; they drew alongside and signalled her to stop.

They were young and very formal. She gave them all the relevant papers, Geoff’s and her own, and answered their questions. Half way through she began to cry, not on purpose but because she couldn’t help it. They were very embarrassed.

‘You do realise, Miss, that we shall have to report this.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’

‘But you may be lucky.’ They wanted her to stop crying. ‘You never know. So cheer up.’

She howled. Lucky? She would never be lucky again in a million years. She said something to this effect quite inaudibly through the howls and one of them leaned in the window, looking concerned.

‘Are you all right?’

She nodded, miserably untruthful.

‘You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?’

‘No.’ Not much.

‘Because if there’s anything we can do—’

‘No.’ Just arrest me, please. A nice quiet cell would be lovely. ‘Thank you.’ It was good to know someone cared, even officially.

‘Where were you making for?’

‘Nowhere. I was just … driving.’

‘Well, you can drive on. Only not so fast this time, all right? Goodnight.’

She watched them go. She was quite exhausted and wanted to stay parked for ever. Pulling herself together briefly, she drove slowly to the next exit road and soon found a quiet layby where she could rest. Promising herself just ten minutes, she curled up uncomfortably in the passenger seat, imagining Geoff at the wheel, and fell asleep.

* * *

He was very angry. As soon as she walked in the door anxiety gave way to relief and relief to rage. Then coldness. She had seen it once or twice at the office, but always directed towards other people.

‘I suppose you have an explanation.’

The sight of anyone so ready for a scene always unnerved her. She went limp, as if the energy he had summoned up had been drained out of her. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Is that all you have to say?’

She had prepared her lies in the car, with miserable efficiency, after the first shock of discovering the time had worn off but left her thoroughly awake.

‘I’m very sorry. Barbara’s husband went out and she wanted me to stay till he got back.’ She had heard or read somewhere that it was best to keep lies simple and short. But she hated the act of lying, and hated the necessity even more.

‘It’s ten to two.’

‘Yes, I know. I’m sorry.’ She wondered how many times he wanted her to say it.

He poured himself a drink. She looked at the bottle and thought he must have had quite a few already. ‘And you couldn’t even phone?’

‘I told you, she’s not on the phone.’

‘Don’t they have call-boxes where she lives?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, monotonously. ‘I couldn’t leave her. She gets frightened on her own with the children at night. And anyway—’ the lies were beginning to stick in her throat—‘I didn’t think.’

‘No. That’s obvious.’ He drank his drink, glaring at her. ‘It never occurred to you I might be worried. Christ—’ and he suddenly let fly, ‘I thought you’d had an accident, I thought you were dead, I didn’t know what to think. You stay out half the night and you don’t let me know, what the hell am I expected to think?’

‘But you knew where I was.’

‘Did I? You might have been anywhere.’

‘I told you—’

‘Yes. I know what you told me.’

They were both silent. She made a final effort. ‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry and I’ve explained. I didn’t mean to worry you. What more can I say?’ She was shaking inside.

He said, tight and hard, ‘It just isn’t good enough, Sarah.’

Everything suddenly broke loose. ‘No, it bloody well isn’t. For Christ’s sake, I haven’t left you for a minute in weeks
and I go out one night and you make a big scene about the time. The hell with the time. It’s
my
time, not yours. It’s not office hours and you’re not married to me and I’m not your daughter either—’ She stopped. The look on his face was enough. ‘And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?’ She felt very tired but relieved, as if they had suddenly reached the end of a journey. She walked past him to pour herself a drink and he grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her. She said quite calmly, ‘No, I’m not Prue. She likes that, I don’t. You save it for her.’

His hand fell away. ‘I don’t think you know what you’re saying.’

She went on and poured the drink. She was amazed at her own calm. ‘Yes, I know what I’m saying. I’ve just never dared say it before. You’re in love with Prue. Not me, or your wife, just Prue. You can’t bear her being married, you can’t bear her being pregnant. You don’t want me as a person, you just want someone to take your mind off her. But nobody can because you’re obsessed with her. As long as she lives you’ll be thinking about her and wanting her back. You’re going to ruin her life. What chance has her marriage got with you breathing down her neck all the time? Or your marriage, for that matter. Or my future. I can’t sit around being a second-rate substitute for Prue all the time.’

He was white and silent. Finally he said, ‘I’ve never heard such disgusting, ridiculous rubbish in my life. I love my daughter, I want the best for her, and that’s
all
. You can’t mean what you’re saying.’

Sarah sat down heavily. ‘But it’s true. Oh, why can’t you admit it? It might be easier if you could. Easier to bear or easier to cure, I don’t know. But we can’t go on telling lies like this and pretending all the time. That way nothing works—it can’t. Oh, why can’t you see it?’

He said, tight-lipped, ‘I’ll leave in the morning. Or would you rather I leave tonight?’

She shook her head, smiling, wanting to cry. ‘But it’s
your
flat. I should be the one to leave.’

‘No, it’s yours. I got it for you.’

‘But I can’t pay the rent.’ She started to cry. ‘You got Prue a flat too, didn’t you? Can she pay the rent or do you help her as well? Oh, why do you want us all to be so
beholden?
How can anything work if we all have to keep saying thank you?’

‘But you don’t,’ he said. ‘That’s not what I want.’

Sarah said, ‘If you want to be loved just let people go. Then they’ll love you. Just let them be free.’

‘Really? Do you guarantee it? And how free do you want to be?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Just … not a prisoner.’

‘And you’re a prisoner here?’

‘No. Yes. Well, it’s just … claustrophobic somehow. I’m not me anymore, I’m just part of the scenery. I’m beginning not to exist. One day I’ll go to the mirror and there won’t be any reflection.’

He was startled. ‘What? Why do you say that? It’s horrible.’

‘I know. It’s a nightmare I used to have. I wanted to tell you about it but you never gave me the chance. You were always talking about Prue.’

‘That’s not fair,’ he said. ‘You could have told me anything.’

‘Not really. At least I didn’t feel I could. There was always so much on your mind. Oh, I thought because you were older you could help me. But you never let me ask.’ She blew her nose loudly on a tissue.

There was a long silence. Then he said, ‘Someone rang up for you tonight.’

She froze. ‘Who?’

‘A man. He said, “Sarah, I’m back.” When I spoke he got
very confused, asked the number and said sorry, it was wrong, he’d made a mistake, and hung up. Who was he?’

‘I don’t know.’ Why were lies so automatic?’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘Just a boy I used to know.’

‘Used to, or still do?’

She said desperately, ‘He went abroad—’

‘Were you sleeping with him? Well, were you?’

‘Yes. Oh, why not? What does it matter?’

‘Were you in love with him?’

‘I don’t know. No. Oh, why all these questions?’

He said, ‘Look, Sarah. No one has ever loved me. I thought Cassie did but it turns out she cared far more about some crazy artist. My mother I never got through to. And Prue … well, you’ve said your piece about her.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No. Maybe you’re right. I can’t tell. But all the people I’ve loved have … evaded me somehow. I’ve disappointed them all, I haven’t been … enough. I thought you were the one real thing in my life. Are you saying I’ve let you down too?’

‘No
. I’m just saying … well, I had a life before I met you, that’s all.’

‘And you want to hang on to it. So if I asked you to marry me you’d say no. Is that it?’

‘You mean you want a divorce?’ Shock.

‘I want a new life, Sarah. That’s all. Is that so bad?’

She said, appalled, ‘But how can you? You haven’t let go of the old one.’

S
HE SNEAKED
out to meet Geoff at lunch-time, feeling guilty and furtive. Even the phone call had been difficult to organise with Manson in the next office. She was a little late and Geoff was already in the restaurant. He got up to greet her and settle her into her seat.

‘I ordered you a drink,’ he said. ‘You look as if you need one.’

‘Oh God, do I look a mess? It’s been a bit of a rush.’ She sank down and sipped gin and tonic gratefully.

‘No, you look marvellous as usual. Just a bit harrassed, that’s all.’ He held her hand under the table and the waiter pretended not to notice. ‘Look, no names, no packdrill, but I’m sorry I rang at the wrong time last night. Was it all right?’

She felt a great rush of affection for him, for looking the same and being so uncomplicated. ‘Yes, it was. Well, no, actually it wasn’t, but nothing to do with you, not your fault. I’m just sorry I was out.’

‘Out?’ he said, surprised. ‘I thought you were probably in bed.’

‘Oh no,
no.’
She surprised herself with her own vehemence and remembered at the same moment that she had something else to confess. ‘I was out in the car. Geoff—’

‘Yes, now d’you think I could borrow the keys? I’m only here for a week and I’d like to get around a bit.’

‘Oh,
Geoff.’
She heard herself almost wailing. ‘You’re not back to stay.’

‘No, I told you. I’ve got to be there for six weeks. But
something cropped up and I had to come over so I thought, Not bad, I’ll see my girl and see my car, and all on expenses.’

The waiters hovered. Geoff began to say, ‘We’re not ready—’ but Sarah shook her head and ordered steak and salad in a rush. Geoff did the same, made a brisk decision on the wine, and leaned towards her rather anxiously. ‘Are you all right?’