Made in Heaven (36 page)

I've had too much to drink, she thought. They hardly know one another. I'm imagining it. She addressed a remark to Graham, and he answered in his usual voice, completely normal again. He hadn't seemed in the least normal a few moments ago. He had been … What was the right word? Transfigured. That was it. Different.
She'd forgotten to look at her mother. Had Joss seen Graham staring at her like that? Had she caught the smile, the raised eyebrow? Had anyone else noticed anything? Now Ma was talking to Pa, but there were two spots of colour on her pale cheeks that hadn't been there before she came out of the loo. How Zannah wished the evening was over! What she most wanted to do now was get home and discuss everything with Em.

*

Isis was nearly asleep in the back of Adrian's car. It was the latest she'd ever been up in her whole life. The street lights, traffic lights and neon signs, in lots of different colours, were streaking past the car windows very fast, looking like fireworks. Mummy was sitting next to Adrian in the front and she and Em were in the back. Isis leaned on her aunt's shoulder and said, ‘I'm not really sleepy, just resting.'

‘You go ahead,' said Emily, and she tucked her soft woolly scarf round Isis's neck. It smelled lovely, just like her. Adrian was talking about how well the evening had gone and the murmur of his voice and her mother's voice soothed Isis and her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Adrian couldn't help it, she decided. He was nice really, but sometimes he just had to be bossy, even when he didn't need to be. I wasn't being naughty, she reflected. I was just laughing a bit loudly, that's all. He didn't have to say what he did. The others thought it was a good joke. He'd leaned across the table and smiled straight at her.

‘Don't you know the old saying, Isis?'

She'd shaken her head instead of answering. She had no idea what he was talking about.

‘Little children should be seen and not heard.'

He'd laughed then, and some of the others round the table laughed too. Isis blushed and couldn't think what to say. Mum would be cross if she was rude, and Granny's evening would be spoilt if she burst into tears. In the
end, it was Grandpa who came to her rescue. He said, ‘Isis isn't a little child. She's wise beyond her years as befits a goddess. Aren't you, my dear?'

Everyone thought that was quite funny and then the waiter came and gave them some food and that stopped the others looking at her. She bent her head and didn't say another word till the meal was over. She just listened to the grown-ups. It wasn't very interesting and she was quite glad when they finished and got into the car to go home. Adrian was giving them a lift. Mum isn't speaking to him now, Isis noticed briefly before her eyes closed altogether. Maybe she's cross with him for being so horrid to me. Maybe she'll tell him off. The lights travelling past the window grew blurred and fuzzy and she fell asleep, still dimly aware of the movement of the car.

*

‘Just going to have a quick bath, Bob,' Joss said. ‘I'll be with you very soon.'

‘Righty-ho,' Bob called. ‘I'm perfectly happy, darling, soaking up all this unaccustomed luxury. Exploring the mini bar, actually. Take your time.'

Joss sank into the scented water and leaned back with her eyes closed. She felt, still, as though she were being slowly torn in two. All day long, she'd both wanted the day never to end, and longed for it to be over. Winning the Madrigal … She'd been so worried about the dinner, seeing Gray, coming here with Bob and then going to Paris with him for two whole days, that the poetry prize and whether she might win it or not had receded to the back of her mind. When she won, a great wave of joy and elation took hold of her and she almost stopped fretting about what would happen when she was sitting with Gray in the restaurant.

The round table meant that they were all quite close to one another. She was actually opposite Gray and it took some effort not to catch his eye. Maureen was sitting on
the other side of Adrian, but still, Joss heard ‘Graham and I and ‘my husband' far too often for comfort. If someone burst into the bathroom now and asked her what she'd had to eat, she would have had to make an effort to remember. She'd spent most of the meal in a sort of daze. She'd drunk more and more wine, to give herself the courage simply to keep on sitting there. She made a point of watching Isis, to be sure that she was all right and enjoying the evening. Adrian was being charming to everyone, from what she could see. It was difficult not to like him, Joss reflected, and he was certainly handsome, but she didn't feel she knew him very well yet. Zannah and he hadn't visited Altrincham together. She must try to arrange something. From time to time, she lifted her eyes to see who Gray was talking to: Em, Zannah … that was all right.

Then she'd gone to the loo, and Zannah came with her. She'd guessed that something was up, of course, but Joss was reasonably certain that she'd reassured her. Then on the way back to the table, she'd caught Gray's eye and seen … She'd seen everything in his gaze that she hadn't even realized she'd been waiting for: love and admiration, passion and dismay. A tiny smile, a raised eyebrow: an acknowledgement that the feeling between them was there, like an invisible rope binding them together. She smiled back at him. She couldn't help it. It had been such a relief to her that he knew. That he understood how she must be feeling. That he was experiencing, as she was, anguish and desire and a love he had no way of expressing.

There had been the usual press of people around the cloakroom, as everyone was handed coats and scarves and Adrian his briefcase. They had milled around the door of the restaurant and walked together to where their cars were parked. Joss frowned as she reconstructed the choreography of their farewells. The Ashtons were taking Charlotte home again. Adrian was giving
Zannah, Emily and Isis a lift. Kisses were exchanged. Maureen kissed Zannah and Emily. Then she kissed Isis. Zannah, Emily and Isis got into the car. Maureen kissed Adrian. He got into the driver's seat. Then Maureen kissed Joss and Bob and got into the passenger seat of Gray's car. Then Charlotte kissed Joss, murmured ‘Bon voyage' and got into the back seat of the Ashtons' car. Then … Bob had shaken Gray's hand and moved away. She and Gray were alone together on the passenger side of the Ashtons' car. He leaned towards her, and kissed her cheek, politely, suitably, but his hand found hers and squeezed it so hard she almost cried out and she couldn't stop herself: she brought his hand up a little and pulled it into her waist, as though she was reluctant to let him go. Their hands were still clasped together tight, so tight, and then he leaned forward suddenly and whispered in her ear. ‘Text me. Please …'

She'd nodded. She couldn't speak. There wasn't time and the words were on her lips and she moved them silently.
I love you
 … Had he seen? Did he know she'd said it? She'd held on to his hand as long as she could, but the whole exchange couldn't have taken longer than a few seconds. Adrian's car was already moving as Gray was kissing her goodbye. No one in Gray's car could see them, Joss was quite sure. They'd been shielded by the bulk of the taxi that Bob had ordered to take them back to their hotel. Bob himself was settling down in the back seat, waiting for her to get in. Both Maureen and Charlotte waved gaily out of the window as they drove off. Gray's eyes had been fixed on the steering wheel. They were safe. No one knew what had passed between them.

She sighed and got out of the bath. I have to enjoy this, she told herself. I wish I was anywhere but here. I wish I was at home. I must put Gray entirely out of my mind for the next few days, or I shall go mad. Bob's waiting. My husband. Father of my children. The man
I've loved for more than thirty years. He loves me. He's arranged this treat for me. She fastened the towelling robe provided by the hotel around her waist and tried to pull together all the love that was there, somewhere, she knew it. It was a love she'd relied on for years and years, a love that had nothing to do with Gray and what she felt for him. This was a different emotion altogether and Joss set herself to find it, to remember it and to show Bob that she was still a good wife. It must still be there, somewhere.

*

It was touch and go. Either Maureen was saving his life with her incessant chatter or she was slowly killing him. The irritation he felt every time he tuned into what she was saying was certainly raising his blood pressure, but the good thing about Maureen was that you didn't have to listen to much. As long as you put in a non-committal remark from time to time, she was exactly like one of those toys that you wound up: she would buzz around in ever-decreasing circles and only come to a full stop at bedtime.

‘ … not a bad place, really. Lasagne maybe not quite up to scratch, but of course they haven't got enormous amounts of money and it was rather a romantic gesture from Bob Gratrix, wasn't it? To take his wife off to a hotel for the night and then to Paris. I wish you'd do something like that, Graham.' She sighed theatrically. Gray was just about to say something that would, the way he was feeling, have come out sounding even crosser than he felt, but no, she was off again. About the clothes, this time. Here he really tuned out and almost immediately wished he hadn't because what was in his head was such torture that he'd almost have preferred to listen to Maureen.

He could imagine everything. The room, the bed … Would they be in it already? Had he torn off her clothes the minute the door was closed? No, speaking to Bob,
looking at him carefully, as he'd done tonight, the man didn't strike him as the tearing-off-clothes type. For long minutes across the table, he'd watched him. He couldn't see anything about Lydia's husband that was in the least remarkable. He seemed pleasant enough, not good-looking, but okay. It was now, because he'd heard him speak, watched him chatting to his wife, very much easier to see the two of them as they must be at the moment, or very soon would be. Unthinkable that Bob wouldn't want to make love to her on the night of such a triumph. Gray shivered. Stop thinking about it. He tried to turn his mind to other things which led him to Paris. He made a huge effort and tried instead to picture himself, there in Paris with her. A café on the Left Bank, holding hands across a marble-topped table. Walking along the streets together. His imagination wasn't up to much except fantasies of the two of them making love then making love again. Waking up together. Sleeping together. Together. The thought of it made him grind his teeth in frustration and he concentrated on changing gear.

Maureen had moved on from discussion of this evening's party to the wedding. She was talking about flowers. He glanced at her.

‘Mmm,' he said, as a kind of encouragement. For a mad second, he thought of interrupting her.
Maureen darling, I'm in love with someone else and I want a divorce
. What a relief it would be, to have everything out in the open! He stopped himself. He'd promised Lydia that they'd wait till after the wedding. How would Maureen take the news? Would she cry? Hit him? Yell at him? And what would she feel, really feel? After she'd got over the pain that hearing such words would cause her, Gray comforted himself that she'd be okay in the end. She was a survivor. She always had an eye to the main chance. She was a good-looking woman still. It was hard to believe that she wouldn't find someone
else, if she wanted to. Gray indulged himself in a short fantasy of Maureen swanning off on a Caribbean cruise, surrounded by hordes of admiring suitors, beating off requests for a dance, a kiss, a marriage. Who was he trying to kid? He was using these daydreams to comfort himself. She'd be devastated, of course, but perhaps he would cushion the blow a little by leaving her the house, just moving out. He would also, as he had told Lydia, have to provide for her generously.

‘I'm going to make a cup of tea, darling,' Maureen said, as they turned into their drive.

‘Right,' said Gray. ‘I'll put my stuff away in the study and I'll be down in a moment.' He raced upstairs and took out the phone he used only for his conversations with Lydia. There was a text message waiting for him.

I'm thinking only of you. Love you
.

He sat down and punched in a reply:

Me too. Will wait for you
.

He couldn't say what he wanted to say, which was: I'm trying not to think about you because I can't bear it. What are you doing now? Are you in his arms? Kissing him?

He walked downstairs to the kitchen, wishing it was tomorrow. As soon as he woke up, he'd be able to work all hours in the hospital and not think about a single thing to do with Lydia, but there was the rest of the night to get through first.

*

‘I've already told you what I saw,' Emily said. ‘Ma kind of pulled his hand towards her and kept on holding it for longer than she needed to. I wouldn't have thought twice about it, but after what you've just said …'

Zannah sighed. ‘I think she's having an affair with Graham Ashton. It's the only explanation. But how? And when? They hardly know one another …'

‘You've forgotten what happened at your engagement
party. Remember how she rushed out like that and made Pa drive her home? That was a bit strange.'

‘But Em, they'd never met before then, had they? I don't know what I think.'

‘We've gone over and over this. My head feels like scrambled eggs, Zannah. Can't we leave it?'

‘But what if it's true?'

‘I don't see how it can be.'

‘But what if it is? Ma having an affair. What'd happen? What about Pa?'

Emily picked up a cushion and punched it. Then she put it behind her head and leaned back. ‘I reckon,' she said, ‘that we should talk to her. Ask her straight out.'

‘And what if she says she is? What then?'

‘I don't know. It's late, eh? Let's go to bed. We'll talk about this later. Ma and Pa are in Paris now … They'll be living it up. We're stymied till they get back …'