Semi-Detached Marriage (11 page)

'I'm sorry, love,' he told her over the phone
late on Saturday night, when the storm had raged without letting up all day,
'but there's just no way I can make it. I've tried everything: the helicopter,
a Range Rover with chains on the tyres, snow-ploughs, even a boat to take me by
sea, but they either refuse to risk the weather or else get bogged down after
only a couple of miles; even the snow-plough couldn't make it.' The annoyance
at having to admit defeat was clear in his voice and Cassie could imagine how
galling he must find it that he could have so many means of transport at his
disposal
and yet be thwarted by a simple snowstorm.

Cassie gave a sigh of pure frustration, 'Oh,
Simon, just when are we going to get together?'

`Just as soon as I can make it. Do you think
that being away from you isn't driving me to distraction, too? But at least we
can talk on the phone.'

'We could have done that when I was at home
in London,' Cassie pointed out acidly. 'I didn't come all this way just so that
we could exchange platitudes over the phone.'

'But we're not going to just exchange
platitudes.' His voice became soft, caressing. `You're going to lie on your bed
and I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm going to do to you the next time I
make love to you. Now, lie back.'

Cassie smiled to herself and did as she was
told, wriggling down deliciously on to the pillow and holding the receiver close
to her ear. 'And just where do you propose to start?' she asked him huskily.

'At the top,' he told her, 'working my way
slowly down with a couple of very interesting diversions to left and right on
the way…'

Back in London, Cassie threw herself into her
work with a rather grim determination to forget about Simon and being lonely.
She tried to be philosophical about it, telling herself that other women, who
were married to sailors, or soldiers, or something like that, were apart for
far longer periods and managed to survive. The fact that the divorce rate among
such couples was also very high, she could ignore; her's and Simon's feelings
for each other were strong enough to weather even such a long separation as
this. And gradually, as she again immersed herself in her work, to the
exclusion of nearly everything else, it began to have an immunising effect,
cushioning her from any real feelings, so that her frustration and loneliness
were buried beneath constant activity, channeling all her energy into her work
where before she divided it between work, home, friends and her social life.

At the beginning of April she went to Paris
again for a big fashion fair showing all the new French and Italian
ready-to-wear collections. It was exciting, it was fun, and Cassie came back
full of ideas and plans that she was eager to work on and develop at home while
they were fresh in her mind. But when she got back from the airport and went up
to the flat, Simon opened the door for her before she even got her key out of
her bag.

'Oh, it's you!' For a moment she was so taken
aback at seeing him that she could only stare foolishly.

He laughed and bent down to pick up her case,
then drew her inside and shut the door. 'Stop looking at me as if I were a
ghost. I'm real.'

'Are you?' she asked huskily. 'I was
beginning to wonder.'

'Well, in that case I'd better prove it to
you.' He set down her case and moved purposefully forward, taking her in his
arms to kiss her, slowly at first, his lips exploring hers gently, as if he was
kissing her for the very first time, but then they grew harder, awakening a
response so that she opened her mouth in surrender, giving herself wholly to
his embrace.

When at last he lifted his head, Cassie looked
up at him, her green eyes misty and languorous. Breathlessly she said, 'Now I
know it's you. Only you could kiss like that.'

His eyebrows rose. 'Oh? And just who have you
been comparing me with?' he demanded.

Cassie laughed. `Wouldn't you like to know?'
Then she began to fire questions at him as she unbuttoned her coat and he
helped her off with it. 'When did you get home? How long can you stay? Have you
worked out the new pay policy? Have all the unions agreed? Have you eaten yet?
I'm starving,' she added as she made for the kitchen and pulled open the door
of the fridge. 'Did Mrs. Payne get the groceries I asked her to? Let's cook
some…'

She broke off as Simon caught hold of her
shoulders and turned her round to face him.

'Yesterday, till Monday, no, no, no, yes.'

Cassie looked at him in bewilderment. 'What
did you say?'

'I merely answered your questions. I got home
yesterday; I can stay till Monday; no, the unions haven't yet agreed to a pay policy;
no, I haven't eaten, and yes, Mrs. Payne did get the groceries. Now, will you
just simmer down a minute and let me tell you something.'
             

 'What? Is it important?' Cassie asked on a
note of alarm.

'Very important,' he agreed gravely, but then
he smiled as he put a hand on either side of her face and said softly, 'I
wanted to tell you that I've missed you, I need you, and I love you so very
much.' Then he kissed her again, long and lingeringly.

'Oh, Simon!' Cassie put her arms round his neck
and let him hold her close. 'It's been such a long time.' She smiled at him. 'I
was beginning to forget what it was like to be married.'

Simon laughed with her as he let her go, but
a faint shadow came into his eyes as he watched her busy herself with the
preparation of a meal. After a moment he put out it hand to stop her. `Tell you
what, why don't I go out and get a Chinese meal?'

`Would you? That would be lovely; I didn't
really feel like cooking.'

'Be back in about twenty minutes,' he
promised as he kissed her on the nose before going to put on his overcoat.

But it was nearer half an hour before Simon
returned, and then he was rather annoyed to find that Cassie was sitting at the
table writing in a notebook and had made no attempt to set the table or put any
plates to warm.

She looked up in some surprise as he walked
in.

'Good heavens, are you back already? Sorry, I
just sat down to make a note of some ideas I had on the way back from Paris and
forgot the time.' She jumped up and began to get out the cutlery and mats. 'It
won't take a minute.'

'How did you get on in Paris?' Simon called
from the kitchen where he was plunging a couple of dinner plates in hot water
to warm them.

'Oh, it was super. I think this was one of
the most successful fashion fairs they've held.' She went on telling him about
the trip as they ate, describing the new styles in detail, and enthusiastically
outlining her own plans for displaying the goods in the various fashion
departments at Marriott & Brown's.

Simon listened and asked several questions,
but the warm, interested look in his eyes gradually faded and was replaced by a
slight frown as he detected a harder note in Cassie's voice as she talked about
a deal she'd pulled off, a slightly ruthless edge that had never been there
before.

After the meal they sat together on the
settee for a
while, listening to some new L.P.s that Simon had
bought, his arm round her and Cassie's head on his shoulder. But after a while
she began to fidget restlessly and then sat up. `Shan't be a minute; I just
want to make a note of an idea I have for the swimwear department.'

Picking up her notebook, she sat down at the
table again and began to write hurriedly, her ideas coming too fast for her to
write in anything neater than a hasty scrawl. When the record ended she was
still writing and Simon got up and quietly turned it over. His eyes settled on
her reflectively as he went back to his seat, realising that she was so
immersed in what she was doing that she hadn't even noticed that the music had
stopped.

An hour later he stood up abruptly, turned
off the record player and came to take the pen from her hand. Cassie looked up,
an indignant frown on her face, her mouth open to make a sharp objection, but
then she realised who it was and she flushed guiltily.

'Oh, lord, I did it again, didn't I?'
Contritely she closed the notebook and stood up. `I'm sorry, darling. It's just
that I'm so full of ideas after Paris, and I'm afraid that if I don't put them
all down I'll forget them.'

She looked up at him, her green eyes wistful
and pleading, and Simon found it impossible to be angry. He reached up to
stroke the smooth, pale skin of her cheek and the harsh comment he had been
about to make died in his throat. Instead he said thickly, `Let's go to bed.'

Her face came alive with love and longing.
`Oh, yes- let's!'

They made love with a turbulent passion, each
of them satisfying their own needs greedily, but in so doing arousing the
other's to new heights of sensuality-new and yet not new-for each of them knew
the other's body as intimately as their own and was aware of what pleased and
excited them the most. Simon had taught Cassie never to be shy or hold back, to
tell him when something he did gave her enjoyment, until there was no longer
any need to tell him and she could only moan, 'Yes-oh, Simon, yes!' as he
brought her to one ecstatic climax after another.

They had been apart for a long time and it
was late when Simon finally turned her on to her side and lay close beside her,
his arm across her possessively, encompassing her with the protection of his
body as he fell into a contented sleep.

Some slight noise woke him a couple of hours
later and he stirred, then remembered where he was and reached out to put his
arm round Cassie again. But she wasn't there, the bed was empty. He thought she
must have gone to the bathroom, but the bathroom opened off the bedroom and
there was no light under the door. Getting up, he slipped on a bathrobe and
walked quietly down the corridor to the sitting-room. Cassie was sitting on the
settee in the pool of light thrown by the standard lamp, her dressing grown
wrapped round her and her feet tucked under her. She was busily writing in her
notebook again. Simon watched her for a long moment, then turned and went
silently back to the bedroom, to lie thoughtfully and smoke a cigarette as he
waited for his wife to come back to bed.

'Cassie? It's John Russell.'

`Oh, hi, John. How are you?'

It was a Saturday afternoon, the weekend
after Simon had managed to get home, and Cassie had been washing her hair when
the phone rang.

'I'm fine. You?'

`Yes, great.'

`Good. I was afraid I wouldn't catch you,
that you would already have set out to meet Julia.'

`Julia?' Cassie queried on a note of
surprise.

`Yes. Look, she's gone out without her cheque
book and credit cards I've just found her wallet on the hall table.' He
chuckled. `She'll be mad as fire when she goes to buy something and finds she
can't'

'Well, I don't suppose. you're altogether
sorry,' Cassie returned, jokingly. `But look, John, you've got it wrong, I
haven't…'

She was going to add that she hadn't made any
arrangement to meet Julia that day, but he interrupted her by saying, `Must
rush, I've got a golf match this afternoon. But she said she was going out with
you, so I thought I'd better let you know in case she started panicking and
reported the wallet stolen or something. You know what she's like,' he added
with all the husbandly lack of sympathy that comes after a ten-year marriage.

`But, John…'

'Must go, love. Sec you.'

And he put the phone down before she could
protest any further. Cassie shrugged as she replaced her own receiver;
obviously he'd got her mixed up with some other friend that Julia was going
shopping with, although he'd seemed pretty definite about it. And, come to
think of it, Julia had never mentioned having shopping trips in the West End
with anyone else, often saying that she liked to go with Cassie because she had
such a good fashion sense. Well, whoever she was with she wouldn't be buying
much today without her money.

It was only later, when Cassie was
blow-drying her hair and reading a magazine at the same time, that her eye
chanced on a letter to the agony column in which a married woman who was having
an affair asked for advice, and it occurred to her to wonder if Julia had been
using her as an excuse and that she might be meeting another man. At first she
dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Julia just wasn't the type, and besides, she
loved her home and family too much. But then Cassie remembered uneasily that
Julia hadn't phoned her to go out on a Saturday for several weeks, and that the
last time she had seen her she'd been more than a little fed up with John and
his incessant golf. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became.
One read so often of people having affairs that it had become commonplace, but
the thought that it was someone you knew quite well made the whole idea
shocking and wrong. Cassie decided in the end to phone Julia as if nothing had
happened and suggest they meet and then try to find out if she was right. She
didn't want to do it, it was like peeping through bedroom keyholes, but she
felt that she had a right to know if Julia was using her as an excuse to meet a
lover. And besides, she might easily have given the game away to John, and the
last thing she wanted was to be involved in a marital row.