Cathy Kelly 3-book Bundle (132 page)

Besides, life happened. People changed, men grew tired of what they’d insisted they always wanted and, one day, they reached out to a different woman simply because she was there.

No reason, just the opportunity had been there.

‘Why did you come?’

‘To say sorry. I hurt you and I am sorry. I wanted to say that I thought he loved me. I didn’t fall into bed with him as an on-location thrill. I’m not that sort of person, although,’ Megan admitted, ‘you probably think I am. But I’m not. I was seduced by what he said to me and…’ This was the
hardest to admit: ‘…what I thought he meant to me. I wanted to be protected and loved. I thought Rob was the man to do it. I never thought about you, and I’m sorry. I think about you all the time now.’

Katharine roared with laughter. She was sexy when she laughed, Megan realised. This award-winning actress was a real-life woman away from the cool image of the BAFTA-winning professional.

‘I have thought about you too,’ she said. ‘Not kindly.’

Megan flushed. ‘I can understand that. But I had to see you face to face and apologise. He wasn’t in love with me, you see. You could have had your marriage back if we hadn’t been caught…’

‘Oh no, little girl,’ said Katharine, shaking her head. ‘We couldn’t. You see, I am not one of those women who let their man stray, hoping he will come back eventually. I believed him when he said he loved me. I never knew there were other women. I trusted him implicitly. Now I’m pretty sure that all those other times he was seen with women and he told me it was purely innocent, it was anything but. Did you think we had a deal going where I turned a blind eye? Not me, Megan.’

It was the first time she’d said Megan’s name and although Megan knew that Katharine could make any word sound any way she liked, her name did not sound like a curse coming out of Katharine’s mouth.

‘I loved him too. He betrayed both of us, although it’s not such a betrayal when you are young and the man is not your husband.’

‘I was stupid. I didn’t see through him and I hurt you. I hurt me, too, but I know that’s immaterial. My mistake, my punishment.’ Megan shrugged. ‘But if it’s any consolation, I’ve learned a lot. I’ve learned that if you don’t have absolute truth in your own heart, you can’t expect it from anyone else.’

She needed to say all this to Katharine, even if the other
woman didn’t want to listen. Hurriedly, she rushed on: ‘I’ve learned about true friends and about moving on from silly notions I’d carried through from being a child. I grew up.’

‘That’s good,’ said Katharine, amazing herself with how calm she was being right now.

She poked around in this mental forgiveness. Very strange. It wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d played the wronged wife a few times on stage and screen, and this wasn’t the usual response.

‘I’ve wondered a lot about Rob and you,’ she said. ‘I like to think it must have happened because he’s getting older. It’s hard for him. Ageing hurts men, too. Plus, the business is changing. The fans want the same, but different and better. That’s a hard act to follow. They remember a film like a moment in time. They see something like
Storm Cloud
and they remember themselves then, the world then, and they want every one of Rob’s films to recreate that magic, but it can’t.
They’re
no longer the same person. But they don’t understand that. They say “Why is Rob Hartnell losing it?” when, really, they have changed too much for them ever to see him the same way again.’

Megan sensed that Katharine was voicing, perhaps for the first time, the thoughts that had filled her mind for the last seven months as she tried to make sense of Rob’s betrayal. ‘Why are you being nice to me?’ she asked.

Katharine was taken aback by the question. I’m not particularly being nice to you, she thought. I’m being nice to myself. If it’s all your fault, it means he chose you over me because you’re younger and he ignored all our history, all the love we had. That way, it’s my fault because I couldn’t hold him. That’s not what happened. This is about Rob and what he chose to do. Many women, I think before you. Lots of lies to me. No, it’s not you, you were just there. And it’s not me, I just wasn’t there.

‘When it’s over, it’s over,’ was what she said out loud. ‘I
didn’t think it was over with Rob, but clearly he had other ideas. Anders, the man I’m seeing, is right: you did me a favour. I would have preferred if the favour had been done quietly, without the whole world knowing and watching, but Rob and I have lived in public view for a long time. I know the score. You’re young, so he can look foolish and middle-aged. If you were my age, it would be worse. This way, he rejected a woman who became older. His loss.’

‘Thank you and, for the last time, I am sorry,’ Megan said.

The door to the dressing room opened.

‘Katharine –’

The words died on the lips of the tall, blond man at the door. Anders loomed over the pair of them, in tattered jeans and a snowy-white dress shirt. He hadn’t shaved that morning and blond stubble covered his broad, chiselled chin.

He recognised Megan instantly, despite her new hair.

‘What’s happening?’ he growled, standing protectively by Katharine’s side. He expected a catfight, Katharine thought, amused. Wasn’t that what men thought women did: claw each other’s eyes out with nails, pull hair. The real female fights were much worse – women ripped into each other with scorn and then continued the verbal hatchet job forever afterwards.

Anders grabbed Katharine’s shoulders and held her so tightly, it hurt. He glared down at her.

‘If she has come to gloat, don’t say anything. Don’t do this to yourself. He is not worth it.’

‘She came to say sorry,’ said Katharine.

His grip relaxed. He looked from Megan to Katharine and continued in a softer voice: ‘That took courage. It is the sort of thing you’d do.’ He looked at her proudly and proprietarily. ‘You’re brave and strong. I don’t understand why you stayed with
him.
’

Anders had never, as far as Katharine could recall, ever said Rob’s name out loud. said it was always
your husband
or
him.

‘He’s a coward, runs away rather than facing the music.
She did you a favour, I told you already. Wouldn’t you rather know you were married to a coward?’

‘You’re a romantic, Anders,’ Katharine said in wonderment. ‘I never realised.’

‘The soul of a poet, my mother says,’ he murmured.

‘I should leave,’ Megan said. Just once more, she stared into Katharine’s eyes. ‘I wish you only happiness,’ she said, and walked out of the dressing room.

As she made her back through the theatre and on to the street, her whole body was shaking with nerves. She’d promised herself she’d do this, and she had. The truth was hard to stand up to but once you started, you had to keep doing it. Apologising to Katharine was one of the first steps in her new life. Talking to Rob didn’t register. She didn’t need to see him ever again. She could get on with the rest of her life now.

We talked about the old festivals when we lived in New York. Strange that we didn’t talk about them so much at home. The canon didn’t like talk about the old ways, and people didn’t like to upset him for fear the bishop would be round.

I loved Beltane. It’s a pagan festival of fires and the potency of the earth, when the earth gods and goddesses joined together in a wild dance. The church isn’t so keen on that type of carry on. My mother liked to sleep outside on Beltane, but we had to promise not to tell anyone.

She never allowed me to do it because of my bad chest, but I said I would, someday.

I never did, you know. I never danced and hopped over the fire the way some people told me they did in their hometowns. I missed all that. If I had my time again, I’d do it all, Eleanor.

Connie’s fortieth birthday arrived with midsummer. As a teenager, she’d hated having her birthday during the summer because there was nobody around to have a party with.

‘What will we do for your birthday?’ asked Nicky on a
Saturday afternoon in June as the sisters sat in Titania’s and worked their way through two beautiful pastries.

‘Dunno,’ said Connie, with her mouth full. School had broken up for the summer holidays and the big exams had gone well, she thought, although nobody would know for sure until the results came in August. But she’d made no plans and given little thought to how she’d fill the time. ‘I could go on one of those “holidays” where you have a facelift and, when you come home, everyone says you look great and you say: “It’s the sun!”’

‘You don’t need that,’ said Nicky dismissively.

‘Yes, I do,’ sighed Connie. ‘Nobody ever asks me if I’ve had Botox, do they?’ She wrinkled her brows until she looked as if she was in pain. ‘See? The new young assistant in Patsy’s was washing my hair the other day and she told me I looked like I think a lot.’

Nicky giggled. ‘She’d better not let Patsy hear her say that, or she’ll be fired. Most of Patsy’s customers look like they must spend all their time thinking.’

‘You’re being ageist,’ said Connie.

‘I’m not. You’re being paranoid. Forty is the new thirty, haven’t you heard?’

‘Forty is only the new thirty if you have a personal trainer, Botox and a hot man to come home to,’ insisted Connie. ‘When you live alone, hate the gym and don’t have Botox, forty is the new seventy-five.’

‘Oh, Connie, don’t be like that. You don’t really feel that way, do you?’ said Nicky, worried. ‘You’re fabulous and everyone loves you. Why did we end up discussing plastic surgery anyway?’

‘I think Danielle has had work done,’ Connie said in a low voice.

‘Danielle? You mean the woman from Ella’s school who fancies the rocks off Steve?’ Nicky didn’t lower her voice.

‘Speak up, why don’t you?’ said Connie. ‘There are a few people down the back who didn’t hear you.’

‘OK. That Danielle?’ whispered Nicky.

‘Yes, perky Danielle with the velour tracksuit bottoms. I tried a pair on once,’ Connie revealed. ‘The changing room had one of those mirrors where you can see your behind – I looked like a cinema seat. A Pullman cinema seat. That’s one of the double ones, for those of you under forty who have never seen one.’

‘Danielle isn’t going out with Steve, is she?’

‘Keep your voice down!’ hissed Connie. ‘I’m not going out with Steve, either.’

‘Oh.’ Crestfallen, Nicky finished her pastry. ‘I thought it was all going so well.’

‘It is, we’re friends,’ said Connie. ‘But that’s it. Just friends. If he asks Danielle to marry him, he’ll probably ask me to be his best man.’

‘No, you’re wrong,’ said Nicky. ‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you –’

‘He looks at me like an old friend, or the way people look at Labrador retrievers. If you’ve ever seen the way he looks at bloody Danielle…’

‘Have you offered to babysit while he goes out with Danielle?’

‘I’m not that stupid,’ said Connie.

Nicky stared at her sister blankly. ‘I’m saying nothing.’

Sylvie, who’d recently left the school and moved to Belfast, was pregnant.

‘Am I not the size of the house?’ she demanded when she met Connie off the Dublin to Belfast train. Her hands encompassed a small bump lovingly showcased in a maternity wrap dress that Connie was sure was some designer or other. It was still probably a smaller size than Connie’s own dress.

‘A hotel,’ said Connie, kissing her friend French-style on both cheeks. ‘You’re the size of a hotel. A very chic hotel.’

‘Pah!’

Sylvie’s house was every bit as elegant as Connie had anticipated. The spare bedroom boasted wall-to-wall wardrobes and a small single bed.

Thrilled to show off her home, Sylvie was keen to explain where she’d sourced each bit of furniture and what she personally had done to make it better.

‘This needed more distressing,’ she said, gesturing to the kitchen table, a slab of pale wood with giant carved legs. ‘I am very good with the sandpaper now.’

‘It’s all so pretty that I’m very distressed,’ teased Connie.

She was staying for one night and, in honour of her visit, Sylvie had cooked classic French onion soup and a peasanty beef dish with crusty bread. It was all delicious and Connie made a complete pig of herself.

Sylvie’s husband, Isaac, was a charming man with exquisite manners and was happy to let the two women gossip about the staff in Matilda’s.

What Connie wasn’t that interested in talking about, and what Sylvie was determined to cover, was Connie’s love life.

‘This man, this Steve, he sounds perfect!’

He was, Connie thought wistfully. Sad that he’d been under her nose for so long and she’d only really taken notice of him just when Danielle had got her claws into him. But that was life.

‘What are you doing about him?’ Sylvie demanded.

‘Nothing,’ retorted Connie. ‘He’s seeing someone else, the mother of a kid from his daughter’s class.’

Sylvie didn’t like the sound of this one bit.

‘But he likes you?’

‘He does, but more as a friend.’

‘Pah. Men don’t like women as friends. Do they, Isaac?’ she entreated her husband.

‘Leave me out of it, my love,’ he said in his deep purring voice.

‘Isaac! Help me out!

‘Fine, men don’t like women as friends. Not often. If we like you, then we like you.’

‘See?’ Sylvie smiled like a cat licking cream off its whiskers. ‘He likes you. Do not let this other woman get him. You are handier, you live beside him and you have no children. Men like convenience.’

‘Never mind, Isaac,’ said Connie, patting his arm. ‘You’ll get used to it.’

‘Do not let this one get away!’ ordered Sylvie.

‘It’s too late,’ said Connie. ‘We’re only friends. We’ve had dinner in my house several times, dinner in his house, and a pizza out. If he hasn’t made a move yet, he wants to be friends.’

Sylvie got up to bring in the cheese. ‘Have I taught you nothing? You make the first move, stupid.’

The following Monday, Ella rang Connie’s doorbell. Her grandmother was taking care of her in Steve’s house and Elisabeth had already met Connie and been told that Ella liked dropping in from time to time. The rule was that Ella had to phone first, with Elisabeth’s permission, and then drop round.

‘Come on up,’ said Connie happily.

Ella bounced in the door and immediately made for the fridge.

‘No 7UP,’ she said miserably, after a millisecond’s reconnaissance.

‘Your father will kill me if I give you fizzy drinks,’ Connie said.

‘Danielle lets me have them,’ said Ella.

Connie’s brow furrowed. The girl in Patsy’s would assume she’d been thinking an awful lot if they met again.

‘Danielle’s not me,’ she said. ‘You can have one profiterole, though.’

‘Super dooper!’ whooped Ella.

They sat on the steps up to the front door and ate their profiteroles.

Ella chatted about holidays and how she and her father were going to France for a week camping.

It was all Connie could do not to ask: Will Petal and her mum be going too?

Ella moved on to talking about the tennis camp she was going to the following week and how she liked tennis, but she’d never done it before.

‘Is it hard? I don’t think so. Not for me,’ Ella said excitedly.

Connie’s mind wandered off.

She’d start working for Community Cares, she decided. It would be good for her soul to stop moping and worrying about herself. Look how many other people were suffering in the economic downturn. She’d met Mrs Mills in the square the other day and despite all the poor dear had to contend with she kept saying how cheered up she and Terence had been by their trip to Lourdes.

‘I know Rae put in a good word for me,’ Mrs Mills said, as they walked slowly round the gardens with Terence. ‘I couldn’t have afforded it without CC’s help. Eleanor gave me a little gift for spending money when we went away, too. Said she’d love to think of myself and Terence having a few nice meals over there. She’s a gorgeous woman, so kind. And look at Terence, can’t you see how improved he is?’

Connie couldn’t see any improvement, but she thought how nice it would be to help people like Mrs Mills.

Rae said it wasn’t always easy, and Connie knew that, but still…

‘Dulcie and I will train you, if you get accepted,’ Rae said. ‘There are police checks – not that you’ll have a problem with
that, but we all need them these days. It’s tough work, though. There are a lot of people we deal with now who would have been the ones donating money to CC a few years ago. It’s hard, going into houses where the people are devastated and aren’t sure if they’re going to lose their homes or not.’

Rae was thinking, though she didn’t say it to Connie, of Shona, the woman with the huge house who’d stood to lose it all. Her husband had found another job abroad, so they’d left Ireland and were renting out their old house for about a quarter of what they’d have got for it pre-crash. Rae hoped Shona was finding it easier abroad than she’d found it at home.

‘Are you sure you’re able for it? We’d love to have you, Connie. We need all the help we can get.’

‘I’m sure,’ Connie had said.

She put her arms around Ella and gave her a hug as they sat on the steps in the sun. Ella mightn’t have time for her soon, when she got older and spent more time with Danielle. After all, a child only needed one mother substitute.

Gaynor was surprised to see Nicky at her front door on a Saturday afternoon.

‘Is something wrong with Connie?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Nicky, stepping into the hall. ‘She’s making a complete mess of her life. We’re going to have to do something or that nice Steve will go off thinking she doesn’t like him.’

‘But she’s crazy about him.’

‘I know that, you know that, but does Steve know that?’ demanded Nicky.

‘Has she told him about Keith?’ Gaynor asked suddenly.

‘Yes,’ said Nicky. ‘When he talks about his dead wife, she talks about Keith. She thinks it helps him to talk. I think he assumes that Keith is the great love of her life and she’ll never want another man.’

‘For a clever woman, she’s an absolute idiot when it comes to men.’

‘She thinks someone like Steve could never be interested in her,’ Nicky said.

‘I know,’ sighed Gaynor.

‘But,’ smiled Nicky, ‘I have a plan.’

It wasn’t a surprise fortieth birthday, but there would be a surprise element, Nicky told Connie.

‘What does that mean, exactly?’ said Connie.

‘You’ll love it,’ Nicky assured her. ‘There will be a big gang of us and it’ll be a blast.’

‘What do you mean by “a blast”?’ Connie was still suspicious. ‘If a man appears dressed like a fireman and starts to rip off his clothes, I’m going home.’

‘Blimey,’ said Nicky, stunned. ‘Turning forty has had a bad effect on you! Once upon a time, you’d have loved that.’

‘I’ve changed,’ said Connie. ‘I put my name forward to work with Community Cares this afternoon. Rae says they’d love to have me. It’ll be great to have a purpose in my life.’

Nicky nodded. ‘Yeah, purpose, great. Come on, we don’t want to be late.’

Freddie and Nicky escorted Connie to the restaurant in their car.

‘Do I look all right?’ Connie said, pulling out a compact to check her lipstick again. She’d got her hair blowdried in Patsy’s so that it fell in dark waves around her shoulders. Nicky had done her make-up, although she’d gone very heavy with the eyeliner and the dark shadow.

‘You need to look sexy,’ she said.

‘Why?’ demanded Connie.

‘It’s a rule,’ insisted Nicky. ‘Women need to look sexy on their fortieth birthdays.’

‘If you say so,’ sighed Connie, although she had to admit
that she did look rather good in the mirror. She never bothered with that much make-up normally, and it was nice. Definitely sexy. Perhaps if she’d shown Steve this look instead of her normal schoolteacher-in-plain-navy look, then he’d have fancied her.

‘You look fabulous,’ Freddie said. Nicky had primed him.

‘Freddie, thank you,’ said Connie in surprise.

Nicky had given her a beautiful pink-and-purple silk shift dress as a present and she was wearing it.

‘You’re giving me too much,’ said Connie when she opened the wrapping. ‘A surprise party and a present. You’re so good, I love you.’

Connie adored the dress. It wasn’t the sort of thing she’d buy for herself, but it was gorgeous. It skimmed her hips and made her legs look endless. Plus there was no waistband to stick into her middle, no matter how much she ate. The perfect dress, really.

‘Oh, I know where we’re going!’ said Connie delightedly when they pulled up beside an elegant restaurant with two fruit trees outside the door.

‘The Lemon Tree. I’ve read about this. It’s supposed to be gorgeous but a bit romantic.’ She looked at Freddie and Nicky in alarm. ‘This isn’t the sort of place for a big gang of people.’

‘Yes, it is,’ said Nicky, getting out of the car.

The three of them walked to the door, with Connie vainly trying to see in through the darkened windows to see which of her friends were already there. Sylvie had promised to come from Belfast, Rae was to come with Will, Eleanor was coming too, but she might be a bit late, she said.