Between Friends (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

Carrie left Marta’s cottage a couple of hours later, exhausted with the effort of trying to stem her friend’s emotion.

Of course Jake would come round. In time he would warm to the idea of fatherhood.

Jake loved her, he’d always loved her, anyone could see that. In the meantime, she and Jane were there for Marta, any time.

Difficult was too mild a word to describe the scene. Soothing Marta, Carrie inwardly wept for her. Reassuring her about the future, she had no idea what lay in store for her friend. Life as a single mother was almost certainly on the cards.

Who could have predicted it? A few months ago they had seemed the most comfortable couple she knew, in their beautiful little cottage, with their settled lives and their good jobs.

‘Bye, darling. Call me any time. And Jane.’

She waved to Marta from the gate and drove away, but stopped just around the corner. She couldn’t wait to dial the now-familiar number.

The reception inside the Mercedes was clear as a bell. ‘Hi. It’s me.’

‘Hi, Carrie darling.’

The booming sound of Drew McGraw’s voice filled her with undiluted joy. She ached to be with him, to be holding his huge hand. Since that night at her flat, she’d gone out with him a dozen times, maybe twenty. He’d been true to his word. He had brought his business to Ascher Frew, and Carrie’s standing at the office had rocketed. Surely now, surely soon, she would get the offer of the partnership? But her world had rocked and its axis no longer tilted from the office towards success. Its magnetic pull was elsewhere.

‘Hi love.’

It was all so new. Not since she had been knocked out by Tom Vallely all those years ago had she surrendered herself so completely to her feelings. It wasn’t that she felt safe, though she was sure that Drew would not hurt her intentionally. He was no Tom – but neither had he made clear his intentions towards her in any way. It was simply that she was unable, this time, to help herself.

She had fallen in love.

Yet Drew, larger than life and twice as generous, had made no move on her. Carrie was beside herself with lust. Every inch of soft tissue ached for him. Her hands longed to stroke him. Her breasts tingled for want of his touch. She desired, more than anything, to take him inside her, to lie with him, limb to limb, skin to skin. Drew, though, had done nothing more than hold her hand. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t what she was used to. But, by heaven, it fired her up.

‘You free now?’

‘I’m free.’

‘How’s Marta?’

‘Not good,’ Carrie said in a tired voice, ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

‘Right-o.’

He had taken an apartment in Queen Street for the duration of his stay. Carrie had offered her spare room (hoping that, once he was there, he would swiftly migrate to her bedroom) but he had gently turned the offer down, pleading pressure of work and odd hours.

‘You wanna dine out? Or I could have something sent here.’

‘I’ll come round to you.’

Was there any choice? Eating out, she would only ache to play with his feet under the table, hold his hand across it, she would have no appetite, no eyes for anything except him. In his apartment, even though she would not initiate any move, contact would be easier – and perhaps tonight (the thought kept her going) – perhaps tonight they would at last end up in bed.

‘How long will you be?’

‘Twenty minutes. Half an hour if I can’t get parked.’

‘Indian, Chinese or pizza?’

‘Anything you like.’

She wasn’t hungry. All she wanted was Drew.

‘Hurry slowly, then.’

He meant, keep safe.

‘I will.’

Love you, she wanted to say, love you darling Drew – but she couldn’t. That had to come from him and though she knew he liked her, liked her a lot, she didn’t know how much.

She met the delivery man on Drew’s doorstep.

‘Here. I’ll take it. What do I owe you?’

She paid the bill and rang the bell.

‘Hi gorgeous.’

‘Hi,’ she grinned, flooded by happiness at the mere sight of him. ‘I bring goodies.’

‘Aw, honey, did you pay? You shouldn’t have. Here, let me.’

He stooped to take the bags from her.

Carrie loved it that he was twice her size, that she only came up to his shoulder and that she was like a wisp next to him. She loved it that his appetite for food, as for life, was hearty.

Over the naan and the dhal, the tandoori prawns, plump and pink with their bright red coating, and the lamb korma – Drew had not yet acquired a taste for hot spices – she filled him in on the situation with Marta.

‘That’s too bad,’ he said, tearing off another strip of naan. ‘She’s a great gal, she doesn’t deserve that.’

‘No. She doesn’t.’

‘I’ve been thinking.’

‘Is that unusual?’ Carrie teased him. Drew was always drifting off into some dream or other, usually planning ways to make more money, build up his business. His answer surprised her.

‘Unusual – yeah. Thinking the kind of thoughts I’ve been thinking, at any rate.’

‘Go on then, spill the beans.’

‘Beans?’

He looked puzzled.

‘It’s an expression, Drew. It just means, tell me.’

He surprised her again by taking her hands across the table.

‘I’d like for you to come to the States with me when I go back next week. Think you can get away? I would like to introduce you to my folks.’

Carrie’s heart started hammering.

‘Why Drew! What a lovely invitation. Thank you.’

‘You know how I feel about you.’

No, actually, I don’t. Tell me.

‘I really care about you, Carrie. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. A very long time. You’re real special – clever, sassy, full of energy and ambition. I’d like for us to spend more time together. Maybe—’ he broke off. ‘Well, honey, what d’ya say? Will you come?’

‘Well now, you have surprised me, Drew.’

‘Yeah? You must know I really fancy you.’

His thumbs were stroking the insides of her palms. Carrie felt as though she was melting inside.

‘Come here.’

He tugged at her right hand, released the left so that she was able to slide round the table and sit on his knee.

‘Carrie, honey, do you think ...’

His words faded to nothing as his lips came down on hers in a kiss more gentle than she would have thought possible from such a bear of a man. Then the kissing turned more urgent, more insistent, and she felt his hand creep up inside her sweater.
Yes! Oh yes!
His fingers were on her breasts, tugging at her bra, pulling it down urgently so that they could seek out her nipples. He stood, swiftly, scooping her up in his arms and carrying her effortless towards the bedroom.

‘Carrie? You all right with this?’ he whispered as they neared the bed.

She didn’t answer. She just turned her face up towards him and sought his lips again, her tongue finding his tongue, her breathing quickening as her hands found the smooth warmth of his skin under his shirt.

‘Don’t stop, Drew,’ she whispered at last, as he surfaced for air. ‘Please don’t stop.’

And then they were one. She felt him slip into her, heard his long ‘Aaaah’ of pleasure, heard her own sigh of delight.

‘Honey – is it safe?’

‘Fine, yes,’ she said, her hand stroking the length of his back, feeling the muscles of his shoulders, the hollow in the small of his back, the round firmness of his butt. It felt as though they had always known each other, were made for each other, fitted together as sweetly and as perfectly as though God above had designed them as a pair.

Later, after they were both delightfully sated, he repeated his question.

‘How about the States, Carrie? Whad’ya think?’

‘I’d have to ask for time off.’

‘I could say I need you with me. Consultations with my US lawyers.’

Carrie grinned. ‘Why Mr McGraw!’

‘I could even make that true.’

‘Ah.’

‘So you’ll come?’

‘Of course I’ll come, Drew.’

‘Great. That’s great.’

And he showed her just how great he thought it was in the most personal of ways.

The call Carrie least wanted to take came the next morning. She had got into the office early and, at nine, had already been at her desk for an hour. She needed a caffeine fix.

‘I’m off for a coffee, Sally,’ she said to her colleague. ‘Want one?’

‘Oh, yeah, great, thanks. Large latte please.’

‘I’ll get the money when I get back, don’t worry.’

She picked up her bag and as she did so, her mobile started to ring. She hesitated. Work or personal, that was the question. If it was work, she should stay and deal with it. If it was personal, she might as well get on her way and talk as she went. Taking a chance, she headed towards the door, answering as she went.

‘Hi, Carrie here.’

‘Darling D.A. Delight. Hello.’

Carrie nearly dropped the phone.
Tom. Christ.

‘What do you want?’ she said ungraciously, signalling to Yvonne as she passed that she’d be back shortly.

‘Charming. Not even a “How are you”?’

‘Tom, I think we both know that you are unlikely to be calling me simply to pass the time of day. I take it life’s a beach, now that you’ve hit the small screen?’

‘Oh yes, a blast. Wine, women and song. Or to put it in a more contemporary way, sex, drugs and rock ’n roll, baby.’

‘So to what do I owe the honour of this call then?’

Tom sounded pained. ‘Can I not just phone for a chat?’

‘You never have before.’

His laughter rang out down the line.

‘How well you know me, Caroline dear. I heard a little bird tell me you’re in love.’

Carrie’s heart skipped a beat.

‘In love? Moi?’ she parried helplessly.

‘Toi. Little Carrie. Or should I say ’Lil Miz Caroline.’ He said it in a deep drawl. ‘In love with a very interesting American, by all accounts.’

Damn and double damn. How had he heard about Drew? She didn’t reply.

‘Yes. As blithe as a schoolgirl, was what I heard. That fairly sent my pulses racing, I can tell you.’

The laugh was laden with innuendo.

‘Shut up, Tom. You’re disgusting.’

‘Oh, so now I’m disgusting, am I? So what’s changed so suddenly, huh? From bed buddy to the sweet innocent, is it? I’m guessing dear Mr McGraw would be quite interested in that. I’m guessing a respectable businessman from the American South might be a little, shall we say, surprised to hear about the sexual predilections of the new-found companion of his heart.’

‘Shut it, Tom. You know nothing about it. Anyway, I’ve already told him.’

‘Then a confirmatory call from me will come as no surprise, will it, darling?’

‘What’s wrong, Tom? You can’t be broke, surely. Not with your new status as a television star.’

‘Well actually, darling, now that you mention it, a little top-up of the funds would come in quite useful.’

‘Don’t expect it from me,’ Carrie said, her anger almost uncontainable. ‘The last time I contributed to your
funds
I discovered you hadn’t even kept your side of the bargain.’

‘Ah. You found that out, did you? A little time slip, that was all. I promised you I wouldn’t say a word to Janie after our conversation, and I didn’t. Actually, I’d told her before I called you.’

Carrie was seething. ‘You’re a fucking bastard, Tom.’

‘I can be,’ he said. ‘Oh I agree, I can be. But I do assure you, Caroline darling, you have my
absolute
word for it, that if you contribute to my funds this time I will say nothing at all to your delightful new man about your unalloyed obsession with sex with any and every stranger.’

‘That is
so
not what it’s like!’ Carrie exploded. She was outside the deli now, but she could see heads turning her way, expressions curious, from inside the shop. She stepped away and said in low voice, ‘You know it’s not like that, Tom. You
know
it’s not.’

‘Ah, but will Mr McGraw? That’s the question, I think.’

Carrie was pacing up and down the street, thinking furiously. If she could just pay him off this time, keep him quiet, soon they’d be in the States, away from his reach. And besides, she’d have got closer to Drew, taught him to trust her, love her. He would never believe Tom then. She could laugh him off as a mere troublemaker. But right now, she couldn’t risk it.

‘How much?’

‘Five grand.’

‘
Five
—! You must be joking.’

‘Would I jest about a thing like this, Carrie darling?’

Where am I going to find money like that?’

‘You’ll find it,’ he said easily. ‘Look on it as an investment in your future. Now listen, darling, I must go. A working man and all that. Give me a call when you’ve got everything in place. But don’t leave it too long. Tomorrow afternoon will be fine.’

‘
Tomorrow
! Ha ha.’

‘No joke, Carrie. Bye.’

And he was gone.

Carrie, still shaking, was back at the office before she realised that she hadn’t been to the deli.

‘Where’s my latte, then?’ Sally asked expectantly.

‘Shit. Sorry. I forgot.’

‘Carrie. Christ. If that’s what love does to you, give me less of it,’ Sally groaned. ‘I’ll go myself.’

‘No, I’ll go back. I need the air.’

Chapter Thirty-two

A week after Ross and Emily made their joint confession to Jane, Emily made another, even bigger one, to her mother.

‘Mum? Can I tell you something?’

They were on their own in the house. Gran Porter, her presence required less as Jane’s health improved, had retreated to her own flat. ‘I’ll just have a quiet wee evening to myself, Jane, if that’s all right with you.’ Neal had taken the boys to a school football game and as Jane tackled a pile of ironing, an unusual sense of calm prevailed in the Harvie household.

‘Of course, d-darling. Here, sit down.’

Jane swept a pile of crumpled clothing off the chair nearest to her onto the slightly hairy floor to make room for Emily. She picked a shirt off the top of the pile and stretched it over the ironing board.

‘What is it?’

Emily settled onto the chair.

‘I’ll fold these for you.’

She picked up some towels and began to smooth them half-heartedly.

‘Thanks. What is it?’

‘You know Robbie?’

Jane frowned. Robbie Jamieson was not her favourite topic of conversation.

‘Yes?’ A series of serious discussions with Emily about her recent behaviour had led to an agreement that she would stop seeing him. It hadn’t been a difficult agreement, Emily had been surprisingly acquiescent.

‘That night – the one when I ended up in hospital?’

‘What about it?’

‘I slept with Robbie.’

Jane’s iron hovered in mid-air, then landed heavily on the shirt. Both her hands flew to her mouth as she stared at her daughter.

‘Oh, Emily. Why? Why did you d-d-do that?’

‘Don’t be angry with me. I loved him. At least, I thought I did. I guess I thought it would tie him to me. But it wasn’t really very nice. Is that shirt all right?’

‘Oh!’ Jane seized the iron and placed it upright on the end of the board. She looked at the shirt ruefully, then bundled it up and tossed it to one side. ‘Never mind that – Emily, d-d-dearest – are you all right? My baby...’

She squatted down beside Emily and put her arms round her.

‘Are you? I mean, you’re not likely to be p-pregnant?’

Surely history would not be so unkind?

‘No, of course not. I may be stupid but I’m not that irresponsible. I just wanted to tell you, that’s all. I thought you should know.’

‘Thank you Emily. You know, sleeping with someone should be a very special thing. You should wait until you are really ready.’

‘I know that now. It hurt. And it felt a bit dirty. I didn’t want to listen to Suzy, but she was right all along. Robbie didn’t care about me much, I can see it now. I’ve already told him I don’t want to see him again. I’ve decided to leave the orchestra.’

‘Leave the orchestra? Emily, no, surely not.’

‘I
hate
it.’

‘Because Robbie goes?’

‘I suppose.’

‘You mustn’t let it rule your life. It was just the once, wasn’t it?’

‘Yeah. It wasn’t all Robbie’s fault. I mean, Suzy’s right, he
is
a
really
selfish guy and all that, but I did throw myself at him. And now I can’t stand even looking at him.’

‘Emily, sweetest.’ Jane hugged her again, ‘What a shame you d-did it for the first time with ... well, it’s done now, I suppose. But you’re only sixteen ... wait a bit, eh? Wait until you meet someone you really care about?’

Emily nodded. ‘Yeah. I will.’

She stood up.

‘All right if I go and practice my cello now?’

‘Of course. Maybe you can join the orchestra again next term?’

‘I’ll think about it.’

‘And Emily—’

‘Yeah?’

‘When my Forster is mended, why d-don’t you start playing it?’

Emily swung back, her face aflame with delight.

‘Do you mean it? Really?’

Jane nodded. She had no more fear of the cello. Her fears had moved on.

If Jane had thought she was going to have a quiet evening with the ironing, it seemed that she was mistaken because just as Emily began her cello practice, the doorbell rang. She sighed. Hopefully it would be just one of the Mormons who called round from time to time, squeaky clean, trying to convert them all to their cause. A quick, polite, ‘No thanks, we’re Presbyterians’ would see the back of the young man.

But it wasn’t a Mormon, it was Marta.

‘I’m sorry, Jane, I know I should have called, but I just ... I was out just driving around and I... Please—’

‘Come in.’

Jane’s irritation flew to the skies as compassion took its place. She knew about Jake’s visit, and what had happened, but when she’d related the events of the weekend, Marta had been matter-of-fact, very calm, hopeful of a good resolution. The Marta in front of her now was a wreck, her normally immaculate blonde hair was bedraggled and limp, she wasn’t wearing any make-up, and her hands were visibly trembling.

‘Sweetheart, come into the kitchen. Here, I’ll get t-tea. Sit.’

She indicated the chair just vacated by Emily.

Marta collapsed onto it as though someone had hit the back of her knees.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘For what?’

‘For troubling you. For coming in unannounced. I can hear Emily practising.’ She cocked her head in the direction of the music room and managed a shaky smile. ‘How is she?’

‘She’s getting a lot b-better, thanks,’ Jane said firmly. ‘Here.’ She ladled two spoons of sugar into the tea – her mother always maintained that the best thing for shock was hot, sweet tea – and put the steaming mug down in front of Marta. ‘T-tell.’

Marta lifted the mug, but she seemed to have some difficulty in taking a sip.

‘It’s just hit me, Jane. That’s all. I feel so...’ she searched for the word. ‘Empty. And
stupid
!’ She snapped out the word angrily. ‘How could I not have seen what was happening? How could I not have understood my own behaviour better? Or read our relationship more accurately? How could I have been such a
fool
?’

Jane abandoned all thought of ironing and found another chair. ‘Are you sure it’s as b-bad as you think?’

Marta groaned.

‘Jane, I replay what he said over and over and over in my head all the time. I pick apart his words until they make no sense at all. I don’t know. I think so. I think it’s probably worse. He’s seeing someone else, you know.’

Jane did know. Marta had told her a dozen times already.

‘Really?’ she said sympathetically. ‘P-probably just enjoying a bit of freedom.’

Marta talked, Jane mostly listened. The conversation was circular.

‘I should have seen it coming and done something about it.’

‘That’s easy to say in retrospect, M-Marta.’

‘If only I’d...’

When Marta’s mug was empty, she put it down and stared at it unseeingly for a minute then said, in an unexpected twist of conversation, ‘Have you told Neal yet? About the ... you know.’

Jane was caught off guard. ‘N-no, not yet.’

‘Oh Jane, why not? You must tell him, you know, and the sooner the better.’

The truth was that Jane, fearful about Neal’s reaction, was still in two minds. It was a long time ago. She’d been young. She’d been alone, unable to talk to friends about it. Times were very different then. Excuses chased round her head, each justifying silence. Besides, Marta’s ideas – always well intentioned – all too often ended by backfiring. She couldn’t be sure. And if she couldn’t be sure, she couldn’t take the risk.

Marta, perhaps seeing the look of doubt on Jane’s face, said earnestly, ‘You have to talk, Jane. I didn’t talk to Jake, that was what the problem was.’

Jane sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

‘I’d better go and let you get on with your ironing. Thanks for the tea and sympathy.’

At the door, she said again, ‘Tell Neal, Jane. You won’t regret it.’

Whether she would have told Neal or not, Jane was never to know, because the next morning, after the house had cleared of husband and children – Emily and Ross cheerfully bickering again, a good sign – the telephone rang. Expecting her mother, wanting to discuss arrangements for the day’s visit, she answered it quickly.

‘Hello?’

But it was not Evelyn Porter. It was Tom Vallely. At the sound of his voice, Jane nearly dropped the phone. It felt as though the receiver had suddenly burst into flames in her hand. Pain shot up her arm, along her left side, and started to make her ear burn and her head throb.

‘What is it?’

‘Don’t sound so suspicious, Janie darling. Just calling to hear how you are.’

‘What d-do you care?’

‘Oh Janie, Janie, Janie,’ he said reproachfully, ‘I cared for you for years, don’t you remember?’

She tried to remember. Perhaps there had been a bit of caring, early on, but the truth was that she’d always wondered why charismatic, sexy, popular Tom Vallely had stuck with her, plain Jane Porter. He could have had anyone in those days.

After they’d split up, she did suspect that he had been unfaithful more than once. Thinking back, she remembered small incidents, the faintest scent on his clothes, a blonde hair on his sweater, things she had not even considered or which he had airily explained away.

‘You d-don’t care for me now,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I’m fine, thank you, so you have no need to worry.’

‘Good, good. That’s not what I heard, but if you say so.’

‘Heard? What did you hear?’

‘Oh, I heard you were really depressed. I didn’t like to think about that, Janie darling. I thought you might be a bit worried, you know, because of Neal not knowing about the abortion. It occurred to me that you might be concerned that I would tell him.’

‘You wouldn’t!’

‘No. Of course I wouldn’t,’ Tom said reassuringly. ‘Only the thing is, Janie darling, I find myself a little short of cash right now. Maintaining my new lifestyle is a little more expensive than I thought it would be. And I thought you would be so relieved to know for sure that Neal would not be hearing anything from me once you help me out a little.’

‘Help you out?’

‘Money, darling. I need some money. And then Tom will disappear. Simple! Except, of course, you will have the extreme pleasure of watching me three times a week on your television screen.’

‘I haven’t g-g-got any money.’

‘Poor darling Janie, that stutter’s getting worse, wouldn’t you say? I think you’ll find some money. Oh, I think so. And then all your problems will go away.’

‘T-Tom, don’t do this to me.’

‘I’ve got to go now. Rehearsals beckon. A star’s life is not an easy one.’ His laugh made her shiver. ‘I’ll call tomorrow. Tell you where to send it,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Because I’m sure your children wouldn’t like to know what you did either, would they now? Bye darling.’

The fire on Jane’s left side had been quenched by an icy glacier. She felt numb, sick, filled with helplessness and despair. She sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. She’d find the money somehow. She would do whatever it took to protect her family from the knowledge of what had happened. But would she be able to live with herself afterwards?