Skeletons (23 page)

She went first, figuring that this would give her a fighting chance of catching her breath before Sean showed up. She felt fuelled up with adrenaline. She knew what she was doing was crazy – and wrong –
but she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Neil was on the desk along with Karen, one of the juniors. They smiled when they saw Jen come in. She’d banked on there being at least one guest needing attention, but reception was deserted. She tried to steady her breath. Just a normal
evening. I’ve left something behind. I’ve come back to get it. Big deal.

‘I think I left my wallet here,’ she said, rolling her eyes as if to say silly old me and my forgetful ways. ‘I think it must be out the back, somewhere, probably fell out of my bag.’

‘I’ll help you look,’ Karen said.

Ordinarily, Jen would have thought how nice, how thoughtful. ‘No!’ she said, far too vehemently. ‘It’s OK.’

As if by magic, a couple with two children, and enough bags to start a Louis Vuitton store of their own, fell out of a taxi and it was all hands on deck to get them unloaded and checked in before the younger of the two kids, a toddler, got sued
for noise disturbance. Jen felt sorry for any dogs within a two-mile radius.

She slipped out the back and was on her way up the stairs, leaving them to it. When she reached the third floor, she found room 328 and waited outside, praying no one would be delivering room service next door before Sean arrived. She wished
she’d said yes to another vodka and tonic. She needed the Dutch courage.

Thank God it was only a couple of minutes before the
lift pinged, and there he was. Jen took him in as she watched him walk down the corridor towards her. He was tall, dark and almost, nearly, handsome.
OK, so he wasn’t necessarily conventionally good-looking, but it was all about his confidence and humour and that knowing smile he had. She liked his smile, she had decided. He always looked like he had a secret, and a fairly dirty one at that. He pushed his hair back off his face in a
way that reminded her of herself when she was nervous. Thankfully, though, he wasn’t sporting the same ginger curls.

‘Hi,’ she said, apprehensively.

Sean rubbed his hand along her upper arm in a reassuring gesture as he unlocked the door. ‘OK?’ he said, and she nodded.

She was struck by the fact that it felt strange being inside one of the rooms. Ordinarily, there was no reason for her to be – and, in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had been. Sean’s room was a junior suite, which
basically meant a bedroom with a tiny sofa area. Jen was relieved to see that it was tidy. She wasn’t sure she could take coming face to face with his dirty underwear draped across a chair.

‘Do you want a drink?’ he said, opening the minibar. Even though she did, she managed to say no. She had to keep a clear head.

There was an awkward pause when neither she nor Sean seemed to know what to do. It was as if they had left the pub with no doubts about what they wanted but now that they were in private, self-consciousness had crept back in. She could see the
bed looming up out of the corner of her eye. She tried not to look at it.

Sean walked over and leaned down to kiss her again, and suddenly it all made sense. She felt his hand move inside her uniform jacket, across her collarbone. He started to unbutton her blouse and she
shuddered, half from pleasure, half from fear. This was it.

He pulled away and looked at her. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’

She nodded. ‘Just nervous.’

He kissed her again, and she tried to lose herself in it like she had in the pub. It worked too. After the first couple of seconds, she just gave in. It was going to happen. She wanted it to happen.

When they broke apart again, Sean was silent for a second. And then he took a step away from her.

‘Shit. Jen, we can’t do this.’

She thought she’d misheard for a moment. Tried to work out what else he might have said.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to. God, no. But you’re married. You have a family. I … it’s just not right. I can’t take advantage just because you’re having a hard time at home. It’s not
me.’

Jen stepped back, felt like all the blood was draining from her head. The room was spinning.

‘It’s not me either. I mean, I don’t go around propositioning men. I’ve never … But I thought this was different. I thought …’ She felt so stupid. She had basically thrown herself at him, and now he
was rejecting her. She fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, trying to do them up again.

‘If you were single … but you’re not. It wouldn’t be fair.’

She felt as if she was in a film. The stupid lonely
middle-aged woman making a fool of herself by practically jumping a man she hardly knew. The audience would be shouting, ‘Don’t do
it!’, laughing at her, feeling sorry for her. Why had she ever been deluded enough to think this man would want her?

‘But,’ she said, a note of desperation creeping into her voice, ‘why did you kiss me, then?’

She waited for him to say, ‘Actually, it was you who kissed me first,’ which, technically, would be correct.

She didn’t know if she could bear the humiliation.

‘Because I think you’re lovely,’ Sean said. ‘But I should never have asked you for a drink.’

‘I feel so stupid,’ Jen said. ‘I’m so embarrassed.’

‘When you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be relieved. You’ll know we did the right thing.’

Suddenly, all she wanted was to get out of there. If she could avoid seeing Sean for the next couple of days, he could join the ever growing list of people she had vowed to try to steer clear of. (She was going to have to move to a desert island,
at this rate. That or spend her life savings on some kind of facial reconfiguration.) She had no idea how she could pull that off, so long as she worked at the hotel, but it was the only way. She would pretend this had never happened.

‘I have to go.’

Sean reached out a hand to take her arm. ‘Jen. Don’t be silly. Let’s go back to the pub. We can have another drink, at least.’

She pulled away. ‘No. Really. I should just leave.’

She walked out before he could say anything else. She didn’t know where she was going, she just wanted to put
as much distance between herself and Sean as she could. How could she have been so
stupid? She had misread the signals completely. She had lost her mind, betrayed Jason, made a fool of herself.

She remembered all the other people in the pub, the voice saying, ‘Get a room.’ Anyone could have seen them, two saddos in their forties, necking away like randy teenagers. Overheard her suggesting they go to his hotel. Was anyone in
there laughing now at the deluded married woman who had made an idiot of herself, practically begging a man who wasn’t interested to have sex with her?

She fought back tears. She had no idea who she was any more. The Jen she had always been, the one she thought was a pretty good person, would never have even thought about kissing a man who wasn’t her husband. Let alone done it. Let alone
been the one to initiate it. She couldn’t even think about what had happened afterwards, what she’d said to him. She could feel her face flushing at the memory.

She practically ran down the stairs and back out through the door to reception.

‘Did you find it?’ Karen asked pleasantly.

Jen had to think for a moment to remember what she was talking about. ‘Oh. Yes.’

‘God, you were ages back there,’ Neil said. ‘I nearly sent out a search party.’

Jen didn’t trust herself to say anything else, so she just waved her hand. She ignored Graham Roper the Doorman Groper’s shout of goodnight and headed down the street.

She didn’t slow down until she had reached the heart of Soho, thronged with people leaving work, meeting friends for a drink or a meal. She looked at her watch. It was still only twenty past
seven. If she went home now, there was a chance Charles and Amelia might still be there. She couldn’t safely assume they would have left until about nine. She had forty minutes to kill before she could start on her journey back to Wimbledon.

She wandered around until she found a Costa Coffee, bought herself a latte and sat staring out of the window.

‘I’m sorry I snapped at you,’ Jason said as soon as she walked through the door.

She couldn’t even look at him. She thought that, if he could see her face, he’d read what had happened written all over it.

‘How was work? You must be shattered. Did you eat? I ordered pizza when Mum and Dad left and I got a huge one, in case you hadn’t had time. It’s in the fridge.’

‘I’m fine. Not hungry.’

‘Drink?’

‘Actually, I think I’ll just go to bed. I’m on an early tomorrow.’

He didn’t object. Didn’t beg her to stay up and tell him about her day. She was grateful. She wouldn’t have known what to say. They kissed cheeks as she passed him on the way to the stairs. She tried not to think how different a
kiss it was to the one she had experienced a couple of hours ago.

‘How were Charles and Amelia?’ she said, suddenly remembering that she should show some interest.

‘Good. They missed seeing you.’

‘Sorry. Night.’

‘I’ll try not to wake you when I come up,’ he said to her retreating back.

‘Thanks.’

She felt the weight of their polite exchange nearly suffocate her. She wanted to run back down the stairs and tell him everything that had happened from the beginning right up to tonight, so that he could tell her not to worry and that everything
was going to be OK. But she knew if she did, he wouldn’t, so instead she just kept walking.

She tried to keep her head down when she saw Sean crossing reception next morning. She was on her own – as the person doing the early shift always was before seven thirty – but she had been counting on him not being up and about so early. There
was no reason for him to be. The Vintage Fair didn’t even open until ten.

She thought about picking up the phone, pretending she was on a call to a customer, but it would be just her luck for it to suddenly ring while she was talking. She busied herself with some papers, hoped he might keep moving if she kept her head
down.

He had been right when he’d said she would be relieved nothing more had happened when she got up in the morning. She had gone to bed feeling angry and humiliated, and woken up feeling ashamed and regretful. What had she been thinking? It
was made ten times worse, of course, by the fact that it hadn’t been she who had turned down Sean’s advances, it had been the other way round. If she had got her way, she would have slept
with him, cheated on Jason – who, as far as she
was aware, had never so much as looked at another woman, who was one of the only people she knew who was straight up and honest and exactly the person he claimed to be – destroyed her marriage, probably. She had nothing to resent Sean for, really, she should be grateful, but all she felt was
shame and embarrassment. She didn’t want to have to speak to him.

Sean, on the other hand, had different ideas. Jen could sense him hovering near the desk. In the end, she had no choice but to look up.

‘Have you got a minute?’

It must have been obvious she was a trapped audience. She couldn’t go anywhere, even if she wanted to.

She looked over to check that Dan the doorman was comfortably out of earshot. ‘I don’t really want to talk about it, to be honest. I made a fool of myself, that’s it.’

‘I thought I should make sure you knew that it wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I think you’re absolutely … well, you know. Under any other circumstances … I just thought it would add to your problems,
that’s all, and I would hate to do that.’

‘It was the first time … I don’t usually go around throwing myself at strange men.’

‘I know that. And, for the record, it didn’t feel to me like you were throwing yourself at me. It felt like I was encouraging you. I was the one who kept suggesting we go for a drink. I knew you were married. I should never have done
that.’

She looked right at him for the first time. ‘So why did you? If you have such a strong moral code –’

‘Because I really liked you. Like you. And I wanted to spend time with you, get to know you better. I knew I was potentially putting myself – us – in a difficult situation, but I couldn’t
stop myself.’

‘I should still never have done what I did.’

‘Tell you what, let’s toss a coin for it. Heads it was all my fault, tails it was yours.’

Jen smiled, despite her miserable mood. ‘You were right … when you said I’d be relieved in the morning that we hadn’t … you know.’

‘Whereas I have been kicking myself. It’s not every day a woman I’ve had a huge crush on for years kisses me. Or lets me kiss her,’ he added hastily.

She tried to ignore the fact that he’d said he had fancied her for years. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for trying to make me feel better.’

‘At your service,’ he said, waving his hand with a mock flourish. ‘Now I should go on my sad, single, lonely way and get ready for the day ahead.’

‘Bye,’ she said, as casually as she could. ‘Have a good one.’

‘I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Yup,’ she said, looking down.

She knew she wouldn’t, in fact, see him because she was off the following day, and then he would be gone. She decided not to say anything, though. If she did, she was scared they would have to mark the moment, say an awkward goodbye, and
she wasn’t sure whether she could cope with that. When she found out he was coming down again, she would have to book holiday, take time off sick, something. It didn’t bear thinking about.

She spent the day trying to push all thoughts of him to the back of her mind. She had enough to worry about in her real life without dwelling on what might have happened. There but for the grace of God,
she heard her father say. People in glass houses.

It was here. No amount of wishing it would never happen – that the cottage would burn down, or one of them would contract a deadly contagious disease, or war would break out, anything – could change the fact that the day she had been dreading,
more than any other, had finally come.

They were travelling up separately, thank God, because neither Charles nor Jason could bear to be the one to leave their car at home. The plan was to meet in the pub in the village of Great Milton late morning, and then head over to the house,
which was a five-minute drive away, to meet the owner and collect the keys, at twelve thirty. As they turned off the motorway and travelled down ever smaller roads, Jen’s heart began to sink. She simply had no idea how she was going to get through this.

Since, well, since
that
evening, not only could she hardly bear to face Jason, but she could hardly bear to face herself in the mirror either. She would be overtaken with waves of shame and embarrassment, or fear of being found out. If
this was how she felt after one near miss, she couldn’t even begin to imagine how Charles had got through the last twenty-five years. She almost felt sorry for him.

Every time she thought about Sean, she ran through a whole spectrum of emotions in record time. She felt
ridiculous, regretful, ashamed and, occasionally, slightly turned on – although she tried to
suppress that one as much as she could. Mostly, she just felt bad. She tried to imagine how she would take it if she found out that Jason had been with a woman, snogging in a crowded pub and then pushed up against a doorway in the street, caught up in a moment he couldn’t resist. It
made her sick to think about it. In the end, she had to stop herself from going over and over it. It had happened. There was nothing she could do to change things. Move on.

On the plus side, her indiscretion had temporarily helped to drive thoughts of Cass to the back of her mind. There was only so much she could torture herself with at once. Her head simply didn’t have space to house all the things she was
anxious about at the same time. She had never been great at multitasking.

There were, she had noted last time she’d counted, eleven missed calls or texts from Cass logged on her phone since the afternoon she had come to the house. Jen had taken to leaving her mobile turned off, switching it on every now and again
in case of emergencies, trying to ignore the rising floodwaters. If she allowed herself to dwell on it, she would begin to panic, heart racing, palms sweating, head swimming.

As she was packing up the last few bits and pieces, she heard Jason’s phone ring, knew by the way he answered it that it was Poppy. She stayed in the kitchen, listening to his jokey exchange with his sister. She breathed a sigh of relief
when it sounded like he was ending the call, but then suddenly there he was, in front of her, phone held in his outstretched hand.

‘She wants a quick word with you.’

Jen pulled a face that she hoped said, ‘I haven’t got time.’

Jason thrust the mobile at her anyway, and went back out of the room.

‘Hey,’ she said, before Poppy could strike first and ask how she was. ‘How’s things?’

‘Great. I wanted to tell you to have a good time. I’ve asked Jason to get a box of champagne truffles from me and put them in their room.’

‘Lovely. I might eat them on the way, though.’

‘And I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day.’

‘It’s fine … it was me …’

Thankfully, Poppy’s mind was on other things, and Jen’s words were enough for her to assume that everything was back to normal. ‘Oh, and I really like him.’

Jen was momentarily confused. ‘Like who?’

‘Ben.’

‘Who’s Ben?’

‘Benji. The guy I met through … you know. You’ll be glad to know he says I can call him Ben.’

‘Benji who was so bland you couldn’t even remember what he looked like after the first date you had with him?’

Poppy sighed. ‘It wasn’t that he was bland. It was … I don’t know …’

‘Forgettable? Uninteresting?’

‘No. Why are you being so mean?’

‘I’m not. I’m just telling you what you said.’ She reminded herself that she would be on trial, after their last conversation. She had to try harder.

‘I was only joking. Tell me what he’s like. How many times have you seen him?’

‘Four. We just had lunch again yesterday. And he’s nice. Funny and sweet and good company. And he’s attractive too, just not in a way that hits you in the face, that’s
all.’

‘Did you speak to his mother or his ex yet?’

‘No. Only because we haven’t been out for a proper evening date yet. And it feels a bit silly, now I’ve got to know him. Plus, he did say it would be OK, which must mean he has nothing to hide, right?’

‘Oh no, I am totally not getting involved in that one. You do whatever you think is right.’

‘We’re meant to be having dinner at the weekend. He couldn’t do a dinner at the weekend if he had a family, could he?’

An image of Charles shot into Jen’s mind. She had remembered, the other day, that before he semi-retired Charles often used to entertain potential wealthy buyers at the weekends. Or so he said. He used to say he had to woo them to convince
them that they should let Masterson Property find them their new home. Funny, how she’d forgotten that. Don’t say anything, she told herself – the way you sometimes have to remind yourself not to laugh when someone tells you a piece of really bad news.

‘Of course not.’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m being naive.’

‘I suppose you have to trust people sometimes.’

‘Mmm … Maisie, don’t … oh, you did.’

Jen laughed. ‘What’s she done?’

‘Fed a bit of toast to the cat. I swear my vet thinks there’s something wrong with me, because she keeps telling me to put him on a diet but then every time I go back,
he weighs a bit more.
It’s because Maisie keeps shoving food at him whenever she thinks I’m not looking.’

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Jen said, seeing her excuse to cut the call short before Poppy started asking questions.

‘It’s OK. I can talk to you and keep an eye on her at the same time.’

‘Oh no, I’m not being responsible for Jerome keeling over from obesity. I’ll talk to you soon.’

She could hear Poppy laughing as she hung up.

The village was small and pretty, with just one shop along with the pub, which was lovely, old and beamed with shedloads of both character and characters who, Jen assumed, were the locals. Under normal circumstances, it would have been idyllic.
They had promised themselves dinner at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons, just up the road, one night as a treat. Somewhere Jen had always wanted to go, but she couldn’t even bring herself to look forward to that now.

Charles and Amelia were already seated at a table in the corner of the pub lounge, when they arrived. Jen busied herself with chairs, unwilling to look either of them in the eye. When she did finally have to admit defeat and sit down, she noticed
that Charles looked older, strained and tired. Did that mean Cass’s mother – God, she really must find out her name – had suddenly taken a turn for the worse? She had been doing fine, the last Jen had heard.

‘It only took us an hour door to door,’ Amelia was saying. ‘Of course, Charles drove far too fast, as usual.’

‘Fifty would be far too fast for your mother,’ Charles said jovially.

‘Gosh, Jen, have you lost more weight since we saw you last?’ Amelia said, and not as if that would be a good thing.

Actually, Jen thought, she might well have lost a few more pounds, not that she was about to admit it. ‘No, I don’t think so. It’s probably this coat.’

‘You look tired. It must be all the extra work.’

Jen leaned over and gave her a hug. ‘Not this weekend.’

‘You must have a rest. Don’t think you have to be running around after me and Charles all the time.’

‘Good heavens, no,’ Charles piped up.

Jen forced herself to smile at him. She was here now. She had to get through this weekend with the minimum of permanent damage.

‘If anything, we should be running around after you – after all, you’re paying.’

‘Shall we have an early lunch? I’m famished,’ Jen said, in an attempt to show willing. She didn’t even wait for them to answer. ‘Let me get some menus.’

The cottage was every bit as chocolate-boxy as it had looked in the pictures. It was set off the main road, down a little lane that led to fields at the end. Pale rough stone, with characterful leaded windows and a small porch. Jen knew from the
photos she’d seen online that there was a big, cosy farmhouse kitchen, an overstuffed living room, and three decent-sized bedrooms upstairs. When they’d booked, she had optimistically hoped she might persuade one or other of the girls to come along. Then she had just thought it
would be fun to spend some time with them. Now she would probably have used them as a human
shield. Of course, they both had lives of their own, and better things to do than spend three nights watching their mother tiptoe neurotically on eggshells
around the rest of their family.

The woman who handed them the keys – imagine the poster girl for the WI in the 1970s, only not so sexy – did a double take when she spotted Charles. Jen saw Amelia smile happily with a pride that she immediately then tried to suppress. Amelia had
never been one to show off.

‘Mr Masterson,’ the woman said, her voice dripping with obsequious admiration, ‘I had no idea.’

Charles held out a hand to honour her with a firm shake. The Pope offering a blessing. ‘Pleased to meet you. What a delightful place.’

‘I have to say,’ the woman gushed, ‘I so admire your world view.’

‘Thank you. It’s always nice to feel one’s work is appreciated,’ Charles said graciously.

Jen looked at the house, the lane, anywhere but at her father-in-law.

Inside, it was a bit overdone country-cutesy for Jen’s taste. There wasn’t an inch that hadn’t been covered in a chintzy floral fabric. She felt as if she was inside a bouquet. The whole place screamed Middle England as loudly
as a red-jacketed huntsman with a pack of baying beagles at his heels. She could actually feel Britain’s moral backbone forcing her to stand tall and be counted. They went their separate ways to unpack.

Jen and Jason had earmarked the second biggest of the double bedrooms, making sure that Amelia and Charles had the largest and prettiest. Their own view was of a
herd of cows, contentedly mooching
around, most of them the wrong side of fat. The sight made Jen feel uneasy.

‘I hope they’re dairy and not for eating,’ she said as she looked down on them. ‘I’d hate to think they were all pottering about happily, not knowing their days were numbered.’

‘They’re girls, by the look of it,’ Jason said, peering out of the window. ‘I think that means they’re dairy.’

‘Since when could you tell the sex of cows just by looking at them?’

‘Call me an expert, if you like, but I don’t think male cows get pregnant. Or have udders.’

‘They’re pregnant!’ She slapped his arm playfully.

‘Or maybe just fat. Can cows get pregnant in November? I have no idea. They’re definitely females, though.’

Jen’s mood dropped as quickly as it had risen. ‘Oh God, if they have boys, do you think they’ll take them away and sell them for eating?’

‘Christ, your glass really is half empty at the moment. What’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing. Just thinking aloud.’

‘You’re not going to be in a funny mood all weekend, are you?’

‘No. God. Of course not.’

She didn’t want to revisit the topic of her unwillingness to spend this time with his family – especially not with Charles and Amelia next door. She could hear them moving around, the low murmur of his voice and her slightly higher
tone.

‘Good.’

Jason, Jen felt, had never quite forgiven her for saying she didn’t want to be here and, ever since, she had felt as if he was trying to bite his tongue. Like he had more to say to her on the
subject, but he knew it would be better in the long run to keep it to himself.

She hated it when he was like this. Resentful and closed off. All her instincts were telling her to ask him what was wrong, provoke him into saying whatever it was he wanted to say, but she forced herself to ignore them. Just get through the next
few days. Everything else could wait.

She shoved clothes into drawers, mentally counting down the hours until it would all be over. It didn’t sound so bad when you said seventy hours. Seventy hours could go by in no time. Four thousand two hundred minutes. Two hundred and
fifty-two thousand seconds. What was that song from
Rent
again? They’d been to see it once, a few years ago, and she had sung the lyrics in her head for days.

‘I hope Dad hasn’t picked up on your reluctance to be here.’

‘Jason, for God’s sake.’

‘Didn’t you notice how quiet he was at lunch? And I feel as if he’s been like that for a while now. Not himself.’

‘I’ve said sorry. I’m here, aren’t I? Stop trying to make me feel bad.’

‘Keep your voice down, they’ll hear you,’ he said.

She wished they could clear the air properly for once. Get everything out in the open, and then see where they were after that. But that was out of the question, obviously. They never did, and this certainly wasn’t the time or the place to
push the issue. Jason was never going to
understand how she felt. She was never going to be able to tell him a fraction of the things that were taking up space in her head. She just had to learn to be better at deception, to be more convincing when
she said that everything was fine, she was happy to be there, happy to be spending time with his mum and dad. Once these next few days were out of the way, she could go into overdrive building bridges. Shore up their foundations, before she had to tell him the news that might rock them
again. From then on, she was only going to look ahead to the future, never back. No use crying over spilled milk, the cliché-offering voice in her head – Rory’s voice, these days – said.