Out of the Blue (41 page)

Add a really good sprinkling of seeds…

“Oh, Peter,” I said.

“I love you, Faith.”

“And I love
you
.”

Then pop the buns in the oven.

* * *

When I woke the next morning, I lay on my back, enjoying the whisper of pure linen on my skin. I listened to Peter’s low, regular breathing as raptly as if it were music. And as the sun poured through a chink in the curtains I felt as though some miracle had taken place. I also felt wanton—like Madame Bovary. “
J’ai un amant
,” I said. For this was no longer innocent. It was an affair. I had been unfaithful, I realized with a shock. I had broken the seventh commandment. I had committed adultery, in a way. And it was unadulterated
bliss
. As I thought of Jos I experienced a pang of regret, but not exactly guilt. In my mind our relationship was already over: it had ended last night. And on my return I would tell him, as kindly as possible, that we couldn’t go on. I wondered how he’d react, then realized that I didn’t particularly care. Peter was right. I didn’t love him. I’d found him attractive, and intriguing, and so attentive, and of course I’d got used to having him around. But now I banished Jos from my mind and turned to Peter, encircling his sleeping form in my arms. This is the man of my life, I thought as I laid my cheek against his bare shoulder. I will never want anyone else. We were lying so close together that my eyelashes tickled his skin. He stirred, opened his eyes, then smiled.

“I love you, Faith,” he said sleepily.

“I love
you
Peter,” I replied.

“How long is it since we’ve slept together?” he murmured.

“I don’t know. Over a year.”

“We must make up for that, mustn’t we?” I nodded. He kissed me, then stroked my face. “This is our new beginning, Faith,” he said seriously.

“Yes,” I said. “I know.”

“This is our new chapter,” he added. I smiled. “I mean, you took a little
Persuasion
,” he went on, teasingly now. “You were full of
Pride and Prejudice.
”

“No. It was just
Sense and Sensibility,
” I pointed out. “Because of your…
Liaison Dangereuse
.”

“You had
That Uncertain Feeling,
didn’t you?”

“Yes. So I gave you a…
Dusty Answer
.”

“But now, here we are,
Far From the Madding Crowd
.”

“In
A Room With A View
…”

I knew I would always look back on that weekend as one of the most magical of my life. There was not a cloud in the sky. The air was so clear it seemed to shine. The woods were clothed in antique gold and bronze and red. I will remember this all my life, I thought as we walked with Graham over the Cotswold hills.

“What is an Indian summer, exactly?” said Peter as we strolled through an avenue of copper beech.

“I looked it up the other day,” I said, as the leaves rustled beneath our feet. “An Indian summer is ‘a period of mild weather, occurring in the autumn or early winter; or an unexpectedly pleasant, tranquil, or flourishing period.’”

“This is
our
Indian summer,” he said, drawing me to him and kissing me. “It’s the end of this awful period of being apart. Isn’t it, Faith?”

“Yes,” I said. “It is. It’s the end. Or rather it’s the beginning of the end.”

“We’ll stop the divorce,” he said.

“I’ll phone Rory Cheetham-Stabb and call it off.”

“It’s usually engagements that get called off, not divorces,” Peter remarked wryly as we walked on. At that moment Peter’s mobile phone rang with Andie’s signature tune. He’d thought it would arouse her suspicions if he left it switched off, so now he flipped up the lid and spoke.

“Hi, Andie. Yes, I’m fine. Oh, sorry, but I’m very busy. Well, I told you I would be. Yes. It’s going very well. Are you OK? Good. We’re right in the middle of things here. Birdsong? Oh, no, we’ve just got the windows open, that’s all. Yes I’ll call you later, OK? Of course I’ll call you. Bye.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he put the phone away. “I don’t like lying to her in front of you. I don’t like lying to her period. I have to for now, but not for much longer because I’m going to end it next week.”

The rest of the weekend passed in a haze of food and champagne and walks and talks and shared Jacuzzis and shared papers, and love. We played croquet, and backgammon, and walked through the Slad Valley, and visited Laurie Lee’s grave. Then on our last evening we strolled in Painswick churchyard amongst the topiarized yews, watching as their lengthening shadows stretched across the lawn. Then we got into the car and drove back to London, sated with contentment and love. Peter dropped me off round the corner, with Graham. We didn’t want to be spotted kissing each other goodbye, so we just squeezed hands.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday at Snows, Faith,” he said. “We’ll decide on everything then.”

* * *

“Trick or Treat?” said a couple of small boys in black cloaks and vampire masks as I walked to Snows on Tuesday. “Trick or treat?” they repeated defiantly. I’d forgotten it was Halloween.

“Er, treat,” I replied, opening my purse. In an excess of love-induced generosity, I gave them a five-pound note. I pushed open the door—Peter hadn’t arrived—and was shown to the very table in the window where we’d sat for our anniversary party ten months before. That had marked the beginning of our split, I mused. This summit meeting marked the end. In January the cold spell had set in, but now our frigidity had melted like the dew. As I glanced out of the window, I saw Peter approaching. He looked so happy and relaxed.

“Hello, darling!” he said. He kissed me. “Let’s have some champagne.”

“Champagne?” I said doubtfully.

“Yes. We’ve got something to celebrate, after all.”

“Darling, I’m not sure we should. After all,” I added guiltily, lowering my voice, “we’re about to hurt two people.”

“This is true,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. “We’re about to behave rather badly. Out of respect for our soon-to-be former partners, then, we’ll have the Italian sparkling instead.” So the waiter brought it, and we sipped it like a couple of lovestruck teenagers at their first disco.

“Have you told Lily?”

“Er, no, I haven’t, not yet.”

“You’re scared she’ll disapprove, aren’t you?”

“Oh don’t be silly, darling,” I said.

“And did you ring Rory Cheetham-Stabb?” Peter asked as he perused the menu.

“He was busy all day, but I left two messages for him to call.”

“He’s going to be pissed off, isn’t he? Losing his client?”

“Oh, he’s got loads of other wives to sort out.”

“Oh, Faith,” said Peter, “I’m so happy.”

“So am
I
. But aren’t we naughty?” I said with a grin.

“We’re terrible,” he replied. By now I was feeling slightly light-headed with love and the sparkling wine. “But we’ll let them down nicely,” Peter added seriously.

“Absolutely,” I agreed.

“We’ll be decent about it.”

“Oh, yes.”

“We’ll dump them very,
very
sensitively,” he said.

“Very sensitively,” I agreed. “In fact, we’ll dump them
so
nicely that they’ll actually enjoy being dumped.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “They will. For example,” he added expansively, “I’ll buy Andie a lovely present. To make it up to her.”

“Well, I’m going to send Jos on a holiday,” I said, determined to go one better.

“Oh, you’re so thoughtful,” Peter said.

“I’ll send him on a round-the-world cruise on the
QE2
.”

“Oh Faith, you’re so sweet,” he said. “He’ll
really
appreciate that.”

“I’ll give him the big E
really
kindly,” I said tipsily. “And what I shall say to him
is
—” at this I leaned across the table and gazed into Peter’s eyes “—I’m sorry, Jos, but there’s something I have to tell you. I’m afraid it’s over. We can’t stay together. Why? Because that’s what Fate has decreed. So I’m
terribly
sorry to let you down, but I will always think of you with huge affection and respect. I will always think of you with love…”

“Steady on!” said Peter.

“Oh, all right. Er…I shall always think of you as my friend. And I’m sorry it couldn’t work out between us…” I could almost feel a lump coming to my throat. “And I know I’ve hurt you,” I added, swallowing now, “but I will always be so grateful for the time I’ve spent with you. And I will always be proud to have been your girlfriend, for a while.”

“That’s
brilliant,
Faith!” Peter was clapping.

“I must say I thought it was rather good. What about you?”

“I won’t get the chance to make a nice speech like that,” he replied. “She’ll be throwing things before I’ve even got to ‘Andie, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.’ But she’ll cope,” he added matter-of-factly. “She won’t be single for long.” He stood up. “Excuse me, darling, I must just pop to the loo.”

I watched Peter walk to the back of the restaurant, and as he did so I suddenly spotted a man who looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t for the life of me think why. He was seated alone, reading the paper. I knew I knew him but couldn’t remember how, and the effect of sparkling wine didn’t help. Who
was
he? I mused. He was somehow both memorable and yet non-descript.

“I’ve got it!” I said to myself suddenly. “I know exactly who it is.” It was the private detective, Ian Sharp. I looked at him again and tried to catch his eye, and almost waved, but then restrained myself. After all, I reasoned, he might be on a job.

“Darling, do you know that man?” said Peter as he returned to the table.

“What? Do I know what man?”

“That man sitting over there. You were staring at him just now.”

“Oh, oh no, I’ve no idea who he is,” I lied. For how could I admit to Peter that I did? Peter gave me this slightly odd, disbelieving look, but then the waiter arrived with our main courses and the awkward moment passed. I had chump of lamb again, like last time, and Peter had lemon sole. And as we chatted away I could hear that song, “I Can See Clearly Now”.

I can see clearly now, the rain has gone,
crooned Johnny Nash.

“I love this,” I said to Peter. “It could have been written for us, today.”

I can see all obstacles in my way…

“Now. Plans,” said Peter. “Why don’t we move house? We can afford it, after all.”

Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind…

“And it would give us a fresh start.”

It’s gonna be a bright, bright, sunshiney day.

“We could get something down by the river.”

I think I can make it now the pain has gone…

“With four bedrooms, instead of three.”

All of the bad feelings have disappeared…

“After all,” said Peter, smiling, “we might want to expand the family.”

“Mmm.”

“I’d love another baby, Faith, wouldn’t you?”

Here’s that rainbow I’ve been praying for…

It’s gonna be a bright, bright, sunshiney day…

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ian Sharp shift in his chair. Then he seemed to mutter something to himself. Then suddenly I was aware of two things simultaneously: that the door had been flung open behind me, and that there was an expression of horror in Peter’s eyes.

“Oh God,” he murmured.

It’s gonna be a bright, bright, sunshiney day…

“Peter!” It was Andie. She was standing by our table. “Mind if I join you, darling?” she said with a tight little smile. “Having a cozy little dinner
tête à tête,
are we?” she added as she grabbed a neighboring chair and sat down.

“Look, Andie,” said Peter, shaking his head. “I really think you should leave.”

“But I don’t want to leave,” she replied. “I want to talk to you.”

“How did you know I was here?” said Peter flatly.

“Oh, a friend of mine tipped me off.” I looked at Ian Sharp’s table. He’d gone. Of
course
. I felt strangely betrayed.

“Listen, honey,” said Andie to me, grabbing a bread roll. “I hate to poop the party, but you are onto a loser here.”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Having a sordid little affair with my boyfriend. Well, that’s not on, is it?” I stared at her in silence. “And did you enjoy your stay in the Cotswolds? I had you followed all the way.”

“Andie,” Peter whispered irritably, “we’ll have this conversation elsewhere.”

“The Painswick Hotel sounds delightful, Peter. You must take
me
there some time.”

“Andie,” he persisted, “there’s something I want to tell you. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I’ll tell you now.”

“Oh, and what’s that, darling?”

“That I’m going back to Faith. If she’ll have me,” he added.

“Of
course
I’ll have you,” I said.

“I’m leaving you, Andie,” said Peter more boldly. “I’m very sorry to hurt you, but it’s true.”

“Oh no you’re not,” she whispered back. She looked both menacing and slightly smug.

“I’m sorry, Andie. But it’s true.”

“I really don’t think you
are
leaving me, darling,” she said calmly. “Because the fact is—” she smiled “—I’m pregnant.”

November

“Well, that’s the end of the Indian summer!” I said with uncustomary sharpness on Thursday.

“Eight, seven, Faith’s in a strop…”

“I did say to enjoy it while you could.”

“Six, five…”

“Because now, look, out of the blue…”

“Four, three…”

“We have this
vicious
Atlantic front…”

“Two, one…”

“Which is going to cause a
major
depression.”

“Who rattled her cage?”

“Giving us nothing but November murk.”

“Zero.”

“Thank you, Faith,” said Sophie. She gave me a slightly surprised-looking smile, then turned back to camera Two. “And if you’ve just joined us, you’re watching AM-UK!. Coming up after the commercial break—the beast of Bodmin, is it a genetically modified kitten? Ten new ways with dahlias, and remember, remember, the fifth of November.”

“Yes,” interjected Terry smoothly as he smirked into the autocue, “it’s Guy Fawkes night on Sunday, so we’ve some helpful hints on safety. Will you be having a bang, Sophie?” he asked innocently.

“I’m sorry?” she said; she shifted awkwardly on the sofa and covered her embarrassment with a thin smile.

“And which ‘Guy’ forks out for you?” he enquired facetiously.

“Well, I…”

“Oh never mind, Sophie,” he said, his cheesy smile barely covering his air of quiet menace. “I’m sure your fireworks night is going to be an absolute
cracker!
”

“It’s eight thirty,” said Sophie, ignoring him. “And now the news and traffic…wherever you are.”

I didn’t know what Terry was talking about. He’s always having a go at Sophie, and in any case I was absorbed in my own distress. I struggled to suppress my emotions as I went upstairs to my desk. I pretended to look engrossed in my satellite charts as I blinked back the angry tears. I mean, there I am—a professional forecaster. I make my living by looking ahead. But in my blind bliss at being with Peter again, I hadn’t predicted this. It was
hideous
. It was dismal. I felt as though I’d been shot. The harpies had swooped down, out of the blue, and snatched my feast away. I stared mournfully at the swirling black clouds on the screen, then picked up the phone and dialled Lily.

“Something
terrible
’s happened,” I whispered, aware of a lemon-sized lump in my throat.

“What?”

“Something…unbearable.”

“Jos hasn’t dumped you, has he?” she demanded. She sounded distraught, almost panic-struck.

“No, no, he hasn’t,” I said as the desk began to blur. “It’s just that, well…” I looked up, aware that several pairs of eyes were swivelling discreetly in my direction. “I can’t tell you over the phone,” I whimpered. “But I—uh-uh—need to talk to you.”

“Now, don’t cry, Faith,” she said. “Don’t cry! Jennifer and I will take you to lunch, OK? We’ll meet you at Langan’s at one.”

“Do you have a reser
vation,
madam,” said the head waiter slightly sniffily three hours later.

“Yes,” said Lily, giving him an imperious stare, “I’m not sure about the wallpaper. Come on, Faith,” she said, tossing her pashmina over her shoulder like a matador, “we’ll sit over there.” She parked Jennifer Aniston under the table, then listened while I tearfully told all.

“You were carrying on with
Peter?
” she gasped, her eyes the size of saucers. She seemed absolutely dumbfounded. “My God, Faith, you were playing with
fire!
”

“I know,” I whispered, shielding my eyes with my right hand as I dissolved into tears again.

“Jos doesn’t suspect, does he?” I shook my head. “Thank
God!”
she breathed, clapping her left hand to her breast in a gesture of tremendous relief. “You nearly blew it, Faith,” she added crossly, and this struck me as an odd thing to say.

“What do you mean, ‘I nearly blew it’?” I repeated. She shifted on her chair, then gave me an awkward little smile, her tobacco-brown eyes darting from the table to my tear-stained face.

“Well, all I meant,” she began, sipping her mineral water, “is that if Jos had found out, he’d have chucked you, and then you’d be right up shit creek.” I looked at her and nodded. I’m ashamed to admit that that thought had already crossed my mind.

“So it could be a lot worse,” she concluded.

“That’s hard to imagine,” I croaked. “It’s just so, so
awful,
Lily. God I hate that
bitch!
She’s having Peter’s
baby,
” I wailed softly as my shoulders started to shake.

“Darling,” said Lily firmly, as a hot tear snaked down my cheek. “There’s no point in being angry with Andie, when
you
were the one having the affair. Let’s face it, you were carrying on with her boyfriend, and to be honest, that wasn’t very nice. No, that really wasn’t very nice of you, Faith,” she went on irritably. “But I’m your best friend and I don’t want to judge.”

“Well,
you’ve
carried on,” I pointed out hotly. “You’ve had affairs with married men. At least I was only having an affair with a married man who was married to
me!
”

“Yes, but you were betraying Jos, darling,” she said querulously. “I must say, I’m a bit surprised.”

“Oh, don’t be so disapproving,” I groaned as I felt my lenses slip and slide. “I wouldn’t have told you if I’d known you’d be like this. You’re my friend—I want
sympathy!
”

“Faith,” she said carefully as she handed me a tissue, “it’s only because I
am
your friend that I’m being a bit hard on you now. I’d hate to see you wreck your chances with Jos, and let’s face it—you nearly did.”

“So what if I did?” I shot back as my eyes brimmed again. “It’s Peter I want, Lily—Peter—and I don’t know why you’ve got a problem with that!”

Suddenly Lily grabbed my hand and we gazed at each other across the table. “Faith,” I heard her say gently. “You’re my one real friend in the world. I have only your
best
interests at heart.” And for all Lily’s funny, obsessive ways I knew that she spoke the truth. “I’m very sorry you’re unhappy,” she went on earnestly, “but I think you can put the situation right.”

“
How?”
I wept, pressing the mascara-stained tissue to my eyes.

“By forgetting your little—indiscretion,” she said simply. “And Jos will never know. In any case, Peter wasn’t the answer to your problems,” she said. “Peter
was
the problem.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true,” she insisted. “I mean, first of all he has an affair with Andie, and hurts you; and now he’s had an affair with you and hurts Andie. I really don’t think that’s on.”

“You make it sound so much worse than it was, Lily,” I said as the waiter brought our salads. “Yes, he had an affair. But he regretted it, and so he tried to come back to me. Isn’t that understandable? And that’s what I wanted too. Because Peter’s my
husband!”
I said passionately as my eyes overflowed again. “He’s ineradicable—” I pinched my forearm “—he’s
here,
he’s right under my skin. And you don’t understand that, Lily, because you’ve never been with anyone for more than a
week!”
Lily stared at me, dumbstruck. I’d never spoken to her like that before. But out of the depths of my despair—and my exhaustion—I seemed to have found a new voice.

“I love Peter,” I groaned. “I always have—I know that now—and I want him back.”

“But you can’t have him,” said Lily simply.

“No,” I croaked. “Not now.”

Peter had wanted us to stay together. He’d come round the next day—we were both distraught—and he’d said we could work it out.

“We can, Faith,” he said quietly. “We can work it out.” I stared at him, red-eyed. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he added. “And it’s not going to break us up.”

“Isn’t it?” I said bleakly.

“Well, why should it?” he said.

“Because a baby is such a huge thing—that’s why. I can get over a fling, Peter—I know that now—but I don’t think I can get over a
child
.”

“But I want to be with
you,
Faith. I want my old life back.”

“But this is too big, Peter,” I wept. “A
baby
. A baby which will
always
be there. And the thought of your child growing inside Andie makes me feel physically
sick
. Now I know why I’ve been dreaming about icebergs,” I wept, “because we were about to crash into one!”

“Stay with me, Faith,” he said quietly.

“I just don’t think I can. Because now Andie and her child will always remind us of this miserable part of our lives. We could pretend to be happy,” I went on. “Oh yes, we could put on a good show. But inside we’d both feel so
bad
. I don’t think I can deal with this, Peter. It’s the kind of thing that splits couples up. I mean, Jerry Hall had put up with loads of Mick Jagger’s affairs, but it was that baby that broke them up.”

“I have to do the right thing by Andie,” he said.

“Yes, of course,” I said. “I
know
. I, of all people, know that you will always do the right thing. But it would make life so hard for me, Peter, and it would give Andie a hold over you. She’d be there for ever. We could never forget. I just don’t think it would work.”

“Is that really how you feel?” he said. I nodded.

“And I’ve thought about it so hard. I’ve looked at the situation from every possible angle, but I think my answer has to be no. I imagine myself being stepmother to Andie’s child, and I simply don’t think that I can. Perhaps some women could cope with it, but I know I can’t. I feel that everything’s ruined now, Peter, so I guess we have to move on.”

Oh yes, everything was
ruined,
I’d realized bitterly. Andie had had a Lucky Strike and it had all turned to ashes in our hands.

“You were chasing an illusion, Faith,” I heard Lily whisper. “You were living in a fool’s paradise. Because, quite apart from Andie’s pregnancy,” she explained, “the fact remains that Peter let you down.”

“Yes,” I said faintly as I picked at a lettuce leaf. “He did let me down. That’s true. But I was able to forgive and forget. I thought I’d never get over his infidelity, but in the end I knew that I could.”

“Then you’re an idiot!” said Lily contemptuously. I stared at her across the table. Her eyes were shining with scorn and her mouth was set in a hard, cruel line. Now, emboldened by despair, I asked her something I’d wanted to ask for a very long time.

“Lily,” I said quietly. “Why are you always so hard on Peter?” She didn’t reply but just stared back at me, as though irritated, then blinked and looked away. “Why are you so set against him?” I repeated. “I just don’t understand. I mean, I know you’ve never really liked him,” I went on.

“No,” she agreed. “I haven’t.”

“But before you’ve always tolerated him.”

“Yes,” she agreed as she sipped her mineral water again. “I’ve tolerated him. For your sake.”

“But recently,” I persevered, “over the last year or so, you really seem to have had it in for him. As though you really
hate
him. You just won’t give him a break.”

“Why
should
I give him a break?” she said with sudden vehemence. “He’s never given
me
one.”

“Lily,” I said wonderingly, “I don’t think that’s true. You behave as though he has some animus against you. But I can only tell you that he doesn’t.”

“Oh, really?” she said with a quizzical little smile.

“Yes. Really,” I replied. “But you seem so hostile to him these days. As though you bear him some sort of grudge.”

“OK,” she said, pushing her rocket around her plate. “I admit it. I have had a bit of a downer on Peter recently. But the
only
reason for that,” she explained vehemently, “is because of what he did to you. And although you may have been ready to forgive him, I’m afraid, the truth is, I wasn’t.”

“But it isn’t for
you
to forgive him, Lily,” I pointed out. “It’s for
me
. And if I’d decided to have Peter back, then why the hell should you mind?”

“I’m sorry, Faith,” she said with a disdainful shrug, “but I just can’t help how I feel. The simple fact is that if Peter hurts you, then he hurts me as well. Oh
yes,
” she added as she stabbed at her plate, “Peter hurt me too.”

I looked down at the table and shook my head. For, however she tried to explain it, Lily’s reaction seemed so extreme. But now I remembered what Katie had sometimes said—that at some deep level, Lily had always been jealous of Peter, because she thought of me, somehow, as “hers”. As I gazed at her across the table I was transported back twenty years. I remembered her talking so animatedly, when we were sixteen, of all the fun we’d have when we left school. She spoke of the trips we’d make together, and of the parties we’d throw in the flats we’d share. But in the event I’d married at twenty. I’ll never forget the shock and disapproval on Lily’s face when I told her that I was engaged.

“You never wanted me to marry Peter, did you?” I asked as she lit a cheroot. There was silence. Then she blew the smoke away.

“Not really,” she admitted with a shrug.

“Why not? Why did you mind?”

“It seemed to me—a waste.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“Well, of your degree for a start.”

“But you didn’t finish
your
degree,” I pointed out. “You left Cambridge in your second year.”

“Yes, but I only did that,” she explained, “because I’d had this wonderful opportunity to get cracking on what I’d always wanted—to work in magazines.”

“And I’d got
my
opportunity to get cracking on what I’d always wanted—to be a wife and a mother.” She rolled her eyes. “You can despise it as much as you like, Lily,” I said, “but that was my aim. I was never going to have a fantastic career like yours,” I went on. “I wasn’t brilliant and ambitious, like you. I met Peter at nineteen and that was that—Cupid’s arrow struck home the very first time. You could do a feature on it for
Moi!
—‘When Your First Love is Your Last Love’—and that’s what Peter was to me. You’ve always, somehow, resented him, Lily; but it’s not your life—it’s
mine
. I’m desperate to be with Peter again,” I finished quietly. “And it kills me to know that I can’t.” She looked down at the table as she shuffled the pepper pot around, and for the first time I thought I saw a flicker of something like guilt pass across her lovely face.