Prime Time (25 page)

I beetled back down the corridor and flung open the loo door. Two of the cubicle doors were closed. She must be in one of them. I needed whoever was in the other to come out quick and sod off.

But neither of the women who emerged were Hannah. One was a woman I hadn't seen before and the other was Sheila Hammond, with whom I was forced to have a tedious exchange about what a marvellous time I was having and how friendly a company it was and how she and Alan would miss it when Alan had retired, except that, knowing Alan, he wouldn't really retire because he just wouldn't be able to keep away …

I had been grunting in an interested fashion for several minutes and was just hoping we were drawing to some sort of conclusion when the main door opened again and, in she walked!

She didn't look at either of us but went straight into one of the cubicles. My heart began to beat harder. Sheila was showing no signs of letting up – we were now going over Alan's obsession with the work ethic for the second time – and if she didn't belt up and bugger off soon, Hannah would be out and off again while I was still trapped.

But as the flush eventually sounded, Shelia abruptly stopped speaking and swung round. ‘Ah, Hannah, dear, there you are. How's life treating you?'

I could hardly join in the conversation, so I got out my make-up bag and began to reapply eye shadow very slowly, hoping Hannah might linger to do a bit of the same if Sheila ever slung her hook.

But she was busily giving Hannah much the same speech as she'd just given me and Hannah was murmuring politely. I started layering on mascara and waited, afraid they'd leave together and my chance would be lost. Or, worse, Sheila would go and Charlotte would reappear!

Instead, praise the heavens, someone else arrived. A much younger girl, who I'd seen earlier, popped her dark head round the door and saved the day by announcing cheerily to Sheila that people were waiting for her.

‘Excuse me, Mrs Hammond – they'd like to start the presentation soon.'

Sheila whipped out a bright pink lipstick, pursed her lips in the mirror, and scuttled after her. I started painting my own mouth, watching Hannah in the mirror as she stood alongside me washing her hands, and wondering how to begin. When I couldn't find another square inch of my face to make up, I took a deep breath and turned toward her.

‘So – you're Hannah.'

She looked at me uncertainly. ‘Yes, I am.'

‘I'm Laura,' I said boldly. ‘I'm a very good friend of Roger's wife.'

I'd thought she might look embarrassed, or try to brush it all off by being terribly friendly as if she and Roger were entirely above board, but she did neither. She gave a tiny smile, brushed some hair from her eyes in an irritating, little girl way, and looked at me calmly.

‘Oh yes,' she said. ‘He's told me about you.'

For a moment I was lost for words, shocked that Roger would have spoken to her about our conversation. Then I felt annoyed.

‘It was me who answered the phone when you rang up,' I said coldly, taking a chance. I couldn't actually be sure if it was the same voice or not – she wasn't being particularly breathy now – but she had a light, girlish, slightly soppy tone that could easily have sounded that way if she'd wanted it to.

She didn't reply to this – just went on looking at me.

‘We didn't choose it to happen,' she said eventually, sounding like a bad film. ‘It just did.'

‘What did?' I said, heart beating hard. ‘You've had a few drinks together, that's all – he feels sorry for you.'

‘Is that what he's told you?' She gave another small secretive smile and I wanted to slap her.

‘Yes,' I said. ‘He told me you've been bleating on about your boyfriend dumping you and, as you obviously seem unable to cope with life, he's tried to be kind to you.'

I saw her flinch and for a moment regretted being so nasty – suppose in fact Roger
was
just being kind and she really was having a terrible time. But then again …

Her eyes narrowed. ‘He's been a bit more than that.'

‘Have you slept with him?' I asked in alarm, before I could help myself.

She smiled again, and her tone took on a triumphant note. ‘What do you think?'

‘I don't know what to think,' I said. ‘Except that you must be very sad and desperate to deliberately go after a married man and attempt to break up his family.'

‘I didn't,' she said curtly.

‘What was that phone call about then?'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

I looked at her with contempt. ‘Right.'

‘Charlotte and Roger have a really happy marriage,' I went on, cold at the thought of Roger being stupid enough to risk it with this destructive creature and praying she was making it up about them going to bed together, ‘so why can't you–'

‘It doesn't sound that way to me,' she interrupted. ‘That's why he needs someone to talk to. We talk all the time, and when we can't talk, we text. He says I'm his soul mate.'

I snorted. ‘He's got Charlotte to talk to.'

Hannah looked defiant. ‘He says nobody listens to him at home. He is really unhappy and unfulfilled.'

‘He is not!' I said exasperated. ‘And I've never noticed him not being listened to.' Even as I said it, I knew that wasn't strictly true, but he and Charlotte were still friends, they were comfortable with each other. Up until this woman had come on to the scene I would have said they had the happiest marriage I knew …

‘What we have is very strong and we will be together in the end. He needs me. We have a bond,' Hannah said, a mad, dreamy look in her eyes.

‘He's got a bond with his wife,' I snapped. ‘It's called two children and a mortgage.'

We stood staring at each other for a few seconds. And I began to feel a real sense of unease. This woman could be about to wreak absolute havoc and Roger what the hell was Roger doing?

‘Don't you bloody dare –' I began, but she suddenly leapt toward the door, opened it and shot through it, leaving it swinging back in my face as I tried to shoot after her.

By the time I got outside, she was already further down the corridor, mobile phone in hand, looking as if she was about to text someone. Roger, presumably, to tell him I'd just harangued her in the loo. As I strode toward her, she put the phone back in her bag and scuttled back into the room where the party was. I caught up with her at the doorway and followed her through.

But as we got back inside, it had all gone quiet. Everyone was standing still and up at the front a man with a rather red face, grey hair, and a moustache was holding forth. Next to him, Sheila and a short, bald man with a visibly sweating pate, smiled stiffly.

‘We are so grateful to Alan for his years of dedicated service,' Red Face was saying. ‘It is through his hard work and commitment – '

Hannah had sidled away from me past the knots of people and was standing near the window. Her face looked pinched and calculating.
What was she going to say to Roger?

‘So fortunate that he has agreed to remain a consultant –' Red Face was still going. ‘And Sheila for all her loyalty and support …'

Or God forbid, to Charlotte. Supposing Hannah announced all that to her! Whatever happened, I must keep my friend away from that woman so she didn't get the chance …

‘See them at many more splendid gatherings such as this one …'

Roger had to tell Charlotte first. He'd have to say this deranged woman was coming on to him. That he'd only been trying to help …

‘We will be calling on his expertise. So it's not goodbye, Alan, but rather
au revoir
–' Red Face had paused for the appreciative titters and a smattering of applause.

I watched Hannah – she was creeping along the wall opposite, obviously trying to get back to Roger's side before I did. I stood on tiptoe trying to see where he was – over by the bar, still standing with Tom, eyes turned toward the speaker. I began to edge slowly through the bodies.

‘So sorry,' I whispered, sliding past the woman with the stick and a couple of youngish girls. I couldn't see Charlotte anywhere but knowing her, once she'd got a whiff the speeches were starting she'd have grabbed a fresh drink and gone back downstairs for another fag. I hoped she'd stay there for a while.

Across the room, Hannah was still making her way round the edge of all the listeners. She would be at the bar any minute and be able to whisper her poison to Roger before I got there. If she told him I'd tackled her in the loo and warned her off, he'd probably be furious with me. But if I could get to him first and warn him that she was hell bent on breaking up his family …

Red Face had started again. ‘In the meantime, as a token of the esteem in which we hold you both and our deep affection …' I saw Hannah stop and begin to clap along with everyone else as Alan waddled forward and began what I could tell was going to be a long speech himself. The couple in front of me had ignored my whispered excuse-me, so I stopped too.

Sheila had moved forward, smiling around the room like a duchess as Alan droned on about his joy in watching the firm blossom. I kept my eyes firmly on Hannah. The moment she moved, I was going to as well. Never mind whether the couple in front of me wanted to shift aside or not.

‘And my much-valued secretary – Hannah!' I started as I heard her name. There was an outburst of clapping and Hannah smiled coyly. The people in front of her moved back to let her through. Tossing back her hair, affecting a wide-eyed expression of surprise, she walked up to Alan, head on one side again, as if embarrassed by the limelight.

At that moment I knew exactly what sort of woman she was. I could bet she didn't have a single girlfriend to call her own. I could just hear her ridiculous, girly voice talking about how “I get on better with men, really” and the way she'd simper and act helpless when any of them talked to her.

There was no way she was going to fuck up Charlotte's life.

As Hannah took the flowers with a nauseating mixture of pseudo self-deprecation and smug complacency, I turned toward Roger.

He was smiling broadly and clapping. Oh God, surely he didn't really think she was his soul mate? Why were men so simple sometimes? You only had to look at her to see she was barking and bloody dangerous to boot.

She was holding the flowers against her chest, modestly listening to Alan with lowered eyes as he listed her finer points.

I wanted to shake her.

At last the speeches seemed to be coming to an end. Hannah had kissed Alan's sweaty cheek and he'd said something about more drinks for everyone and how we must enjoy the rest of the evening and then I saw her break through the gathering at the front, heading for Roger.

‘Excuse me,' I said again to the couple in front of me. The woman sighed and let me past. People were still bunched together beyond that, crowded around Alan and Sheila, who was now receiving people with a gracious nod as though she were Queen.

Seeing Hannah held up for a moment by someone admiring her bouquet, I executed one final almighty shove with my elbow, broke through and reached Roger's side seconds before she did. Tucking my arm through his, I grinned up at him manically.

‘How are you doing Roger?' I said loudly. ‘I think Charlotte would like to go home.'

Chapter Twenty-seven

‘I need to speak to you urgently,' I said, without preamble, the minute Roger answered his mobile.

‘I'm at work,' he said plaintively.

‘Well, leave early and see me on the way home. This is serious, Roger.'

‘Yes,' he said flatly. ‘Hannah told me what you said to her.'

‘I wonder if she told you what
she
said to
me
! You need to hear this Roger. No – not at my house. We can't risk Charlotte popping by. In the town somewhere. Before Stanley gets home. Roger – I am seriously worried about you both. You have got to promise me not to listen to anything Hannah says or go anywhere with her until you've spoken to me. Just keep away from her today. And don't sigh like that.'

‘She's off work this week,' he said, when I eventually drew breath. ‘Alan has left, of course, and we've got a new woman starting who Hannah's going to work for but she doesn't get here for another fortnight. So Hannah's taken some leave. She's going to see her mother in Northampton for a couple of days and then …'

‘I don't need the details,' I snapped. ‘Just meet me somewhere – I've got to tell you what happened.'

‘I know what happened. Hannah phoned me this morning.'

‘Well there's a surprise,' I said. ‘Just bloody get over here.'

We met in
Peeps
– the new café bar on the seafront. Roger was already sitting at a table in the window when I got there. He looked awkward; I felt like throttling him.

‘Let's move back a bit,' I said crossly. ‘Just in case Charlotte drives past.'

‘She wouldn't see us anyway,' he said. ‘I've had to run into the road and throw myself in front of the car to get her to notice me before now.'

‘Well, I shouldn't do that if she finds out about Hannah,' I said grimly. ‘She's likely to put her foot down and flatten you.'

He looked at me, troubled. ‘What do you want?' he said, getting to his feet.

I studied his back as he waited at the bar for my coffee. He looked big and solid and dependable. Six week ago, I'd have said those words summed him up perfectly. I want, I thought, feeling upset, for you to see sense before it's too late.

As soon as he sat back down, I told him what Hannah had said. ‘It's exactly as I feared,' I finished. ‘She's determined to have you for herself and she doesn't care who she hurts along the way. And Roger – really – is she worth throwing your whole marriage away for?'

‘I'm not going to do anything like that,' he said defensively. ‘It's not like that at all.'

‘So what is it like?'

‘We – we talk and discuss things. She's just a friend.'

‘Oh, come off it, Roger! You go for a drink with her every night, you text all the time – that's not just a friend. If she was just a friend, you'd tell Charlotte all about her. If she's just a friend then why don't you invite her home for a drink so she can meet your wife?'

Roger looked irritated. ‘She's not my wife's type. Charlotte wouldn't like her.'

‘Too bloody right she wouldn't!' I exploded. ‘Charlotte would take one look at her and know exactly what she was up to. Charlotte hates women like that and so do I.'

‘Like what?'

‘Women who home in on other women's husbands because they can't find one of their own.'

Roger shook his head. ‘She really isn't like that. She's been through a very hard time, she's very …'

‘Calculating?'

‘I was going to say caring.'

‘The only person Hannah cares about is herself.'

I could see, satisfying as it might be (this was Day Ten, which was always dodgy on the self control front), I wasn't going to get anywhere by shouting, so I started again.

‘Roger,' I began, in my best counselling tones, ‘I think the problem here is that while you may regard you and Hannah as just work mates, Hannah herself is seeing it rather differently. You think you are being kind and supportive; she is seeing your natural colleague-type concern as sexual interest. You want a bit of a drink and a chat after work, she wants you to be her life partner.'

He shook his head.

‘Roger,' I said, my voice rising despite my best efforts. ‘She is a woman on a mission. She's saying you're going to end up with her!'

Roger shook his head again. ‘That's not going to happen,' he said. ‘But –' he twisted his cup in his hands, uncomfortably. ‘I do – get something from her.'

With great force of will, I kept my mouth shut and waited for him to tell me what.

‘I don't want to leave Charlotte, of course I don't,' he went on. ‘I love her and you know I wouldn't do anything to hurt my kids. But, you know, we've been married a long time. It's comfortable but it's not always –' he frowned as he searched for the right word ‘ stimulating. Charlotte has a lot going on – she's taken up with the kids and the dog and work and her friends. We don't really talk about what we think about things any more – she says she loves me but she doesn't think I'm particularly clever or exciting. You know how it is when you meet someone new – make a new friend,' he corrected himself hastily. ‘You get the chance to talk about who you are. I haven't done that for a long time.'

He turned the cup round and round in its saucer. ‘Hannah is so – so
interested.'

I shook my head in despair. Hannah knew exactly what to do and it had worked a treat.

‘Do you understand?' Roger gave me a beseeching look.

I glared back. ‘Yeah, I understand. I understand that your ego has had the best massage it can remember in years. And if it carries on, you will hurt Charlotte whether you want to or not, and then she'll get you by the balls and twist them off.'

Roger winced.

But for all my words, I felt a sudden flush of discomfort. Because I did know what he meant. It
was
nice, after years of being in the same relationship, to have someone pay you real attention, to want to know what you thought, what kind of person you were.

It was all very well for me to take the moral high ground, but if all this TV stuff had happened while I was living with Daniel, wouldn't I have still been flattered by Cal flirting with me? I was pretty sure I wouldn't have gone any further, not that “further” was necessarily on offer. Here I paused to relive, for the thousandth time, the memory of his mouth on mine. The delicious, feathery brushing of his soft lips. The way it had sent a tingle right up my spine. And into a few other places …

I shook myself back to the present to consider the matter in hand. Could I honestly say that if I were still married I wouldn't have wanted to go for a drink with Cal, wouldn't have been taken and tempted by
his
interest?

Roger was looking at me miserably. I softened my voice again. ‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘But look, Rog, if you want to talk about who you are, take Charlotte out more. Life doesn't have to be humdrum – you don't have to only discuss the dog and the kids. Do all that stuff they tell you to do on the problem pages. Make a date with her – take her away for a dirty weekend. Go for dinner, just the two of you, and start a better conversation. Who knows? She may want to tell you how
she
is too. I do think you two have something pretty good together – I mean you're still friends, you still like each other.'

‘Oh yes,' said Roger. ‘We are friends, of course. But Charlotte's not always easy, you know.'

‘Easy?' I squawked, freshly outraged. ‘Of course she's not easy. She's passionate and intelligent and sexy and has given you two beautiful children and a wonderful home life and loves you to bits. What do you fucking want?'

‘I know, I know,' Roger said awkwardly. ‘I love Charlotte, you know I do.'

‘And would you like it if she was going out with one of
her
colleagues every single night and texting him when she got home?'

‘No, probably not.'

‘So what are you bloody doing?' I asked, realising we'd come full circle and got precisely nowhere.

‘I don't know. Obviously … Well the thing is, I mean … Well, I can't just dump Hannah. She needs me at the moment – she's fragile.'

I looked at him hopelessly. ‘Oh pur-lease. She's playing you. Being all needy – I can't stand women who do that.'

‘She's not playing me,' said Roger. ‘But she does need me, I think. She is depending on my friendship. I suppose she has got a bit –' he hesitated ‘ attached to me. It's probably my fault.'

I stared at him. ‘Have you slept with her?'

‘No! Not really.'

‘What do you mean “not really”? You either have or you haven't.'

‘She wanted to, we got close to it, but I didn't.'

‘Why not?'

Roger looked embarrassed. ‘We didn't have any contraceptives,' he said uncomfortably.

‘So you would have done, if you had?' I demanded.

‘No – well, I don't know. She was upset and I … I wasn't going to but we got a bit carried away … And I think she just needed some affection. She was really quite distressed. But I didn't, that's the main thing.' He'd started on the napkin now and was twisting it tightly round and round into a spiral in his fingers.

I shook my head in disbelief. ‘But she still wanted to, didn't she? She was still going to sleep with you whether you had a condom or not. Jesus!'

‘I don't know really – she wasn't thinking straight – she'd had too much to drink. Her ex had called her and she –'

‘See?' I cried agitated. ‘See what she's doing? Roger, please promise me you won't ever touch her again. Even if you had a condom she'd probably make a hole in it. Are you
mad
?'

Roger shook his head silently, looking wretched. I gripped his arm in frustration.

‘Look at me. She's trying to trap you – she wants to turn up on your doorstep pregnant. What would Charlotte say then?'

Roger shuddered. ‘She was crying. I felt a bastard.'

‘I bet she bloody was,' I said grimly. ‘I bet emotional blackmail's right up her street.'

Roger shook his head. ‘I don't think she's doing it deliberately,' he said slowly, ‘but I do think she's maybe a bit disturbed emotionally at the moment. To be honest, I did feel worried this morning when she phoned me. Even before you rang, I was thinking: what have I got into and how am I going to detach myself? I know it's getting heavier than I ever intended and I don't know what to do. It was only meant to be platonic …'

‘But these things never really are, are they?' I said wearily. ‘Not really. Not unless the other person's as ugly as sin and totally sexless to boot.'

‘Well, look at us – we are,' Roger said, with a weak smile. ‘And I'm dead handsome and you look OK in the right light.'

‘Thank you,' I said. ‘Very funny. We're platonic because we're like family. We known each other a long time – watched the kids grow up together, seen the worst of each other. Generally, seriously, it doesn't happen often, does it? There's usually a frisson – a little something if a heterosexual woman is spending time alone frequently with a heterosexual man – and even if they don't remotely fancy each other, it's still different from two women or two men, isn't it? The sex thing is always there – even if it's totally buried and nobody thinks about it.'

‘I guess so.' He looked at me appealingly. ‘What am I going to go?'

‘You are going to accept that she's bad news and stop the whole thing in its tracks right now. You don't have to be a bastard. You simply tell her that you love your wife and kids and that while you're sorry for her and about all her troubles, you can't risk hurting them. Give her all that crap about what a special person she is, how she deserves a proper relationship of her own – with someone better than you.'

I gave him a hard look. ‘And then you stick to it. No drinks, no texts, no phone calls. Tell her it's the best way for both of you – so you can both get over it. It doesn't really matter what you say as long as you mean it and don't give in.'

Roger nodded, suddenly resolute. ‘I will.' He grabbed my hands. ‘Thank you, Laura.
Thank you
.'