First Friends (5 page)

‘But she's all right now? What about the sprog?'

‘Both perfectly all right now. Tom?' she added, as he showed signs of returning to his newspaper.

‘Mmm? Any chance of any more coffee, darling?'

‘Oh, all right.' Cass, clad only in one of Tom's shirts, slid her long legs out of bed, picked up the mugs and padded to the kitchen.

Tom stretched and reached for a cigarette. This was much better than being cramped into a little bunk, snatching four hours' sleep between watches. There was no doubt that married life had a lot going for it. And Cass was wonderful! Tremendous fun to have around, no nagging and whingeing about the separations, and as for sex . . . Tom inhaled deeply and grinned to himself. All his oppos were green with envy. A few of them were sniffing round though. Tom frowned a little. He was quite sure that though Cass loved to flirt it amounted to nothing more than that. Nevertheless . . . He flicked some ash in the direction of an overflowing ashtray. He remembered her dancing with Tony Whelan at a recent party and knew that he may not be able to trust the bastards while he was at sea. He drew in another lungful of smoke and thought about Mark bragging about his incipient fatherhood. Good enough chap, bit serious and anti-social for Tom's liking but OK in his way. Perhaps, after all, he'd been a bit too quick to pooh-pooh the idea of starting a family. It would certainly tie Cass by the heels and it might be fun to be a father . . .

When Cass returned, he studied her appreciatively. The long blonde hair fell about her shoulders and his shirt hung open allowing glimpses of her superb breasts. As she stood his mug of coffee on the bedside table, he reached out for her, sliding his hand up her long, smooth flank.

‘Watch out,' she giggled. ‘Mind the coffee!'

She collapsed on top of him, only just managing to stand her mug in a safe place first. ‘Tom?' Her mouth was against his.

‘Mmmm?' His hands were exploring the now familiar and excitingly delicious curves and he rolled so that she lay beneath him.

‘I've been thinking. I know what we said about not having a family yet but don't you think that it would be nice to have a baby, darling?' She ran her hands down his back and, drawing up her knees, wrapped her legs around him. ‘It would be such fun.'

‘A baby? Mmmm.' (Mustn't sound too keen. She might suspect
something.) ‘But I thought we agreed . . . Oh, Cass. Oh, that's nice.'

‘Mmmm, isn't it?' (If I can turn him on enough he'll agree to anything and it'll be too late afterwards.) ‘Yes, a dear little baby. Oh, do let's, darling.'

‘A baby . . . Oh, darling. Well, if it's what you really want . . . Christ Cass! Don't stop!'

‘Oh, it is, Tom. Is that nice . . . ?'

‘Oh, yes. Yes, it is. If you like then. Why not? Oh, Cass . . . '

‘M
ARY HAS SUGGESTED THAT
I come up to Newcastle when the boat goes up. You know that she's driving up? Her parents live out near the moors, Hexham or somewhere. It's quite a good idea, isn't it?'

‘Mmmm?'

The conversation was taking place in Kate and Mark's bedroom on a Sunday morning in June. Kate had made early-morning tea and brought it back to bed for them. A little later she had satisfied, as best she could with the present restrictions, Mark's passion. As soon as it was over, he had immersed himself in the newspaper. Kate sighed inwardly. She knew now that Mark's ‘Mmm's' were time-buyers but she didn't want to upset him by snapping ‘You heard!' The idea of a trip to Newcastle after months of being alone was too thrilling for words.

Reluctantly he lowered the newspaper and looked at her.

‘I said,' she felt nervous now and it sounded ridiculous repeating it all, ‘Mary Armitage is driving up to Newcastle when the boat goes up for your visit and she's asked me if I'd like to go with her. What do you think?'

‘I think it's terribly silly.' Mark's tone was dismissive.

‘But why?'

Mark gave a sigh which prayed for patience and shook his paper. ‘What are you going to do in Newcastle all by yourself for a week—six months pregnant at that? It's different for Mary. She's got her family. And I shall be too busy to spend any time with you, I promise you. It's not some great party, you know. A great deal of work goes into these “Show the Flag” visits.'

‘I know that.' Kate was disappointed but resigned. ‘I wouldn't be in your way. Mary has asked us to stay with her family so I'd have company in the day and you could go in and out with Simon.'

‘Oh, thanks very much!' Mark's irritation rapidly became annoyance.

‘Well, what's wrong with that?' Kate pushed aside the bedclothes and got out of bed. She felt that she could argue her case better on her feet.

‘If you think I'm staying with the First Lieutenant and sucking up to his family you've got another think coming. I've got some pride, you know.'

‘But they've asked everyone to stay,' explained Kate. ‘Apparently they've got this huge house and . . .'

‘Forget it! Andy and Paul can stay if they like. They're not married so it's different.'

‘Why is it different?' she asked, trying to understand him.

‘It just is. And, anyway, it's crazy rushing around the countryside in your condition. I thought you said the doctor told you that you had to take care. Especially now he thinks it's twins.'

‘Well, he did. But I'm not planning to walk to Newcastle,' cried Kate in exasperation.

‘And how will you get back?' Mark raised his brows and smiled in an irritatingly superior manner. ‘The boat's going on to Rosyth. You know that, don't you? From what I've gathered, Mary's staying up north until the boat's due back in Gosport. Are you sure that they'll want you for three weeks?'

‘Well, she didn't actually say how long . . .'

‘Quite. It's my guess that she wants company on the way up and a nursemaid for those sprogs of hers. Once there, you'll be on your own and then you'll have to fight your way back on a train. She probably can't find anyone else to go with her. I can't see the Captain's wife wanting to slum it in Newcastle.'

‘No,' said Kate reluctantly. ‘Angela's not going. She's got something on, apparently.'

‘I bet she has.' Mark gave a snort. ‘She's no fool. She knows what these trips are like.'

‘Mary made it sound like fun,' said Kate wistfully. ‘She said there were parties and things . . . '

‘ 'Course she did! She needs your help. It's a long trip up. Once you're there you'll be cast off like an old boot. Take my word for it.'

‘Well, it'll be a bit embarrassing now.' But Kate knew that she'd lost the battle. ‘I more or less said that I'd go.'

‘Well, tell her you've got to go home. Got to see your mother or something,' said Mark impatiently, preparing to return to his newspaper.

‘But it's almost as far to St Just as it is to Newcastle and I'd have to fight my way on a train then.'

‘But you won't actually go, will you?' Mark's exaggeratedly patient tone made him sound like a schoolmaster trying to instil information into the head of a particularly dim pupil. ‘You'll just tell Mary that you're going. You can still stay on here. We're only away for three weeks. Now,' he shook his newspaper open, indicating that the conversation was closed, ‘are we having any breakfast this morning or aren't we?'

Cass pottered in her little cottage feeling relieved that Tom had gone back to sea. It was really so much easier just to have herself to worry about now that her pregnancy was advancing. Less than three months to go now and love-making was a bit uncomfortable and she didn't feel up to washing and ironing Tom's voluminous white cotton naval shirts or worrying about organising evening meals. Much nicer to laze about, eating and sleeping when she felt like it.

She poured herself a glass of milk and stretched herself out on the sofa. Tom had been thrilled about the baby. He'd fussed over her like an old mother hen: she mustn't do this and she mustn't do that and she must put her feet up after supper while he brought her a cup of coffee. She knew how lucky she was. She took a sip of milk and grimaced to herself when she thought of poor old Kate stuck with her inlaws at that flat. Mark's boat had just sailed for Nova Scotia and he had arranged for his parents to come and stay with Kate who had about a fortnight to go now before the babies were due.

‘The doctor says it's almost certain to be twins,' Kate had said, ‘but Mark won't let me buy two of everything just in case it isn't. His parents are coming to stay for the last few weeks so that, if it is two babies, they can rush off and duplicate everything while I'm still in the nursing home.'

Cass sipped some more milk and shook her head. She'd like to have seen Tom wishing his father on her, twins or no twins. The trouble with poor old Kate was that she was too busy trying to please
everyone around her. Having that grumpy old man with her was enough to make her miscarry and Cass had told her so. Not to mention that fussy old wife of his. It was no. wonder that, with parents like that, Mark was such a wet. Cass had nearly said that, too, but had restrained herself in time. She sometimes felt guilty that it was she who had introduced them. She was beginning to feel that she didn't like Mark and it wasn't just because he didn't flirt with her and flatter her like all the others. At the start she had put it down to the fact that he was simply one of those quiet clever types but she had come to see that this was not the case. He had got lower marks than Tom at BRNC and on the Fourth Year Courses and there was nothing highbrow about his conversation—when he took enough interest to make any.

Cass tried to analyse her feelings about him. There was no life in him, she decided, nothing to him and yet one never felt at ease with him. He wasn't a jovial, friendly man like Tom—who was never happier than when he was one of a crowd—nor was he a devoted family man. He never did anything in the flat to make it more comfortable for Kate or gave the impression of being a companionable husband. He was often quite rude to her in public in a nasty sarcastic sort of way which Kate always tried to turn off with a laugh but which made Cass seethe.

She finished her milk and sighed. Perhaps fatherhood would change him. Meanwhile it would be a kindness if she were to go round to see Kate and help to lighten the load with the in-laws. She picked up a magazine. But not today. They would barely have arrived and, after all, they would be there for another two weeks at least. Cass stretched herself comfortably. No, not today.

T
HE TWINS ARRIVED TWO
weeks early and the Websters had only been in the flat for forty-eight hours when Kate went into labour. It had been a hot September day and they had taken a trip to Bournemouth. When Kate woke in the night with backache, she had assumed that it was due to walking up and down the promenade, queuing endlessly for lunch and the long uncomfortable car journey. After a while, she
got up and wandered into the stuffy sitting room. It was so hot. She had tried to persuade Mark that it would be sensible to move now that there were babies on the way. The flat, charming in summer, was hard work during the winter. Rising damp, an old-fashioned and temperamental solid fuel stove, nowhere to dry clothes; all these things had made Kate's life difficult during the last winter.

She was thankful that her pregnancy had happened through the summer so that she hadn't had to hump coal and ashes. Mark managed to avoid all household tasks.

‘You have to do it whilst I'm away,' was his argument. ‘You may as well get used to it. I don't ask you to come and do my work on the boat.' This was undeniable. As to moving, his answer was simple. ‘I'll be leaving the boat some time next year. I shall have done two years by then. I might get a boat anywhere: Devonport, Faslane, anywhere. No point in moving twice.'

Kate sat down heavily on the sofa in the dark, put her head back on the cushions and closed her eyes. Goodness, how her back did ache! Pregnancy might have been such fun if there had been someone around to share her excitement, cosset her and cater to her occasional cravings. For a brief disloyal moment she envied the few civilian wives she'd met at the clinic, whose husbands came home every evening and who—apparently—were taking such an interest in the whole procedure. Presently she felt water trickling between her thighs. Her eyes flew open. She raised her head, stared into the growing light of early morning and clenched her stomach muscles. The water trickled on.

‘Hell's teeth!' she said softly.

C
ASS, DRESSED IN A
flowery cotton smock and wearing a floppy linen hat on her fair head, strolled along the esplanade at Stoke's Bay watching the holiday makers. She especially watched the very young children, enjoying their absorbed concentration on their games and the way they moved about.