The New Neighbours (47 page)

He had, with great difficulty, got tickets for the play they had both wanted to see, but they were for a Saturday evening. Normally they didn't meet on Saturdays because that was the day the girls often spent with their father. However, after a little persuasion, Angela gave in, and agreed to go.

“I'm going to the theatre with some friends from the office,” she told her daughters. “I won't be very late I don't expect.”

“Can I go out too?” Chantal had asked. “It's Mad's birthday on Saturday, and I've been asked over for a drink.”

“I should think so,” Angela agreed. “Just one glass of wine now, Chantal, OK? Are you going too, Annabel?”

Annabel shook her head. “Doubt it,” she said. “I've got this essay to finish for Monday.”

So Angela had left them to it, and had met Ian at the theatre door, filled with the same glow of happiness as she'd had when they were first engaged. She had made her decision in the past few days. If Ian wanted to come back, and the girls wanted him, then she would give it a try. She wasn't sure how she was going to tell him, he had never asked her outright to take him back, but she knew that was what he wanted, and she knew she wanted it too. She had never stopped loving him, and she was now able to admit the fact, to herself and to him.

All through the play she wondered how to approach him. Should she make him ask, or should she do the asking, and tell him she wanted him as much as he wanted her? What about the precious dignity she'd been so carefully preserving?

In the end, it was surprisingly easy. They had a drink in the interval, in the crowded theatre bar, and as he raised his glass to her, she held out her hand and said, “I want you to come home, Ian. Will you?”

For a moment, he stared at her and then a look of joy suffused his face, and taking her glass from her set down both the drinks and gathered her into his arms. He crushed her against him and murmured into her hair, “Oh my darling, I swear to you, you will never regret it.”

There were some mildly surprised looks from other people in the bar, but neither of them was aware of those. Very gently Ian kissed her, and then released her and said softly, “Do you want to see the second half?”

Angela smiled and shook her head. He took her hand and together they left the theatre, and once they were safely outside in the anonymous darkness of the street, he gathered her to him again and whispered huskily, “Oh, my darling, I want you so much!”

“Where shall we go?” Angela asked, her voice equally unsteady, “Not your place or mine!”

“To a hotel, come on. We'll check into the White Bear.”

“But we've no luggage,” Angela protested, laughing.

“I don't need luggage, I just need you.”

They went to the hotel in the centre of town and Ian checked them in. Angela stood apart as he did so, feeling the eyes of the receptionist on her, and imagining her thinking, well I suppose Haven makes a change from Smith.

They were given their key and made their way to the room. Once inside with the door locked, they stood for a moment looking at each other and then Angela said softly, “Welcome home Ian.”

Later, much later, they lay in each other's arms. “I ought to go,” murmured Angela. “The girls will be wondering where I am.”

“Don't go! Stay the night,” Ian urged. “You can phone them, tell them you'll be back in the morning.”

“I can't,” laughed Angela. “Where on earth should I tell them I am? I'm supposed to be at the theatre, with friends!”

“Tell them you've had too much to drink to drive home,” suggested Ian, beginning to massage her back. “Tell them you're staying with the friends and that you'll be back in the morning. Let's face it, if you leave now you'll only confirm the receptionist's worst fears!” He kissed her again, and as he felt her yielding he added softly, “After all, we're going to tell them tomorrow anyway, let's just have tonight for ourselves.”

Angela gave in and made the call. “I'll be back first thing in the morning,” she told Annabel. “See you then.” She hadn't asked if Chantal was safely home, Chantal hadn't been on her mind.

It was a night of rediscovery, and when they finally left the White Bear the next morning, both of them knew that their marriage was being given a second chance.

“Come round this afternoon,” Angela said, “and we'll tell the girls together.”

“Is that the best way to do it?” Ian wasn't sure. “You don't think you ought to sound them out first, do you? Supposing they don't want me back?”

“They will, especially when they see that we both want it,” Angela reassured him. “They never stopped loving you as their dad, you know. They may take a little while to get used to it, that's all.”

So it was arranged, and Angela drove home in a haze of happiness. She let herself into the silent house, no sound or movement from upstairs, and she decided to let them have their lie-in, she would tell them the great news when they finally surfaced, in the mean time she hugged it to herself.

The ring on the doorbell, and the arrival of WPC Ford with her devastating news, had brought Angela down to earth with a bump, and now she had to face Chantal and find out exactly what had happened while she, Angela, had been in the arms of her husband.

Gone was any thought of allowing the girls to have their Sunday lie-in. Angela went upstairs into Chantal's bedroom and drew back the curtains, allowing sunlight to flood into the room. For a moment she looked at her daughter, asleep in bed, one arm round her favourite teddy bear, the other flung back over her head. She looked so young, so vulnerable, that Angela knew a moment's rage that anyone should have violated her innocence. Her fists were clenched so tightly in fury, that her nails dug into the palms of her hands, and if Dan Whoever-he-was had been there at that precise moment, she might well have punched him in the face.

Consciously she made herself relax, and then she reached out and shook her daughter awake. Chantal muttered and kept her eyes firmly closed, but Angela wasn't giving up. “Chantal!” she said loudly. “Chantal, wake up. Wake up and get up. I need to talk to you.”

Chantal opened her eyes, and screwed them shut again against the bright light. “Mum,” she muttered, “What time is it? It's Sunday.”

“I know it's Sunday,” Angela replied briskly, “but I need to talk to you. I'm going downstairs to make some coffee. Put your dressing gown on and come down straightaway.”

There was something in the tone of her voice that brought Chantal wide awake, and as Angela left the room, Chantal had the sinking feeling that she knew what her mother wanted to talk about. But how could she? Annabel wouldn't have said anything. They'd agreed last night when that awful policewoman left that it was better that Mum knew nothing about it.

“After all,” Chantal pointed out, “I'm all right. I had a bit much to drink, that's all, and I just let Dan go too far.”

“How far?” demanded Annabel.

Chantal reddened. “All the way,” she muttered. Then she looked up at her sister defiantly, and added, “And I liked it.”

That wasn't exactly true. She'd enjoyed the kissing and cuddling, and Dan had awakened and introduced her body to all manner of delicious sensations, but when it had come to the actual sex bit, the pushing and pumping, and the mess between her legs afterwards, she hadn't really liked it at all. Still, it was done now, she thought philosophically, and it would probably be better next time. She'd get used to that bit even if there didn't seem to be much in it for her, but at the moment she felt in sudden need of a bath.

What worried her more was the arrival of the policewoman, and the recollection of the look on her face as she'd found them in an untidy heap on Charlie's bed. The way Dan had scrambled into his boxer shorts and grabbed at his jeans had made her feel cheap. She knew instinctively that he hadn't wanted to be caught with her, that she meant nothing to him and he wanted to escape.

“But I thought Dan was Mad's boyfriend,” Annabel was saying.

“He was.” Chantal agreed, and added with bravado, “Now he isn't, he's mine.”

“I doubt it,” Annabel said discouragingly. “It was probably just a one-night stand.”

“You're a fine one to talk,” snapped Chantal, and though Chantal was defensive, Annabel was honest enough to know that she had no right to comment on her sister's behaviour. She shrugged her shoulders and said, “So what happens now?”

“Nothing,” Chantal said with more confidence than she felt. “If you don't tell Mum, there's no need for her to know. Then she won't be upset. And after all I never told about Scott Manders, did I?”

“No.” Annabel had to agree that Chantal had kept her promise there. “OK, well I won't say anything, but for God's sake be careful, Chantal. It would finish Mum if you got pregnant too.”

“I know,” Chantal agreed. She gave Annabel a wan smile and said, “Right now I want a bath,” and she knew in her heart that it wasn't only her body that felt dirty. She sat in the hot water and scrubbed herself all over, and then lay back in the warmth to relax before going to bed, but even so, somehow she still didn't feel quite clean.

Now she crawled out of bed and pulled on her clothes. The events of the evening came flooding back to her and she felt sick inside. She remembered again, the face of the policewoman as she'd come into the bedroom and found her on the bed with Dan collapsed across her, and the feeling of bravado she had maintained last night with both the policewoman and Annabel, but now she slid into a trough of self-disgust. How had she let it all happen? She remembered that he'd been waiting for her outside the bathroom, but the rest seemed confused. Slowly she got out of bed, feeling as if a heavy weight rested on her shoulders, and now she had to face Mum, who seemed to know… what?

She went into the bathroom, and found that at least one of her fears had been extremely short-lived, for, as she sat on the loo she discovered that her period had started. The relief was overwhelming!

Feeling slightly better now that that particular fear had dissolved, she got ready to go downstairs. She felt somehow, that she would be at a disadvantage if she faced Mum in her nightie, so she pulled on her clothes before she went down to find out how much her mother knew about what. Angela was sitting in the living room with the coffee pot and two mugs in front of her.

“Sit down, Chantal.”

Chantal sat.

“Now I want you to tell me where you were last night, and who you were with.”

This seemed to Chantal to be a dangerous opening, but she reached for her mug of coffee and said as lightly as possible, “I told you. It was Mad Richmond's birthday. I went round for a drink.”

“Where?” demanded Angela. “Where did you go for this drink?”

Oh, shit, thought Chantal, she must have seen Mrs Hammond. “Just to the pub for a quick one.” Her eyes slid away. “I drank coke, that's all.”

“Is it?” Angela said flatly. “Then what happened?”

Chantal wondered how much Angela knew about the events in Dartmouth Circle last night. It didn't really matter, she'd know the main part soon enough from everyone else. What she might not know was what Chantal herself had been doing. Not many people knew that, and none of those would be likely to discuss it with Mum. She decided on the edited version. “There was a party, at the Madhouse. It was a bit noisy, and someone, probably old Ma Colby, called the police.”

“And?” prompted Angela.

“And they came. They turned off the music and so everyone went home. Mum,” Chantal realised that she must find out, “what is all this about?”

“It's about a visit I've had from the police this morning,” replied Angela. “It's about the fact that they found you in bed with some student called Dan. It's about the fact that you'd been smoking hash. It's about the fact that I trusted you to go round to friends and you… you… Chantal, how could you? How could you behave like that? You're only fifteen. Supposing you're pregnant as well!”

“I'm not,” said Chantal flatly.

“What?”

“I'm not pregnant,” Chantal said. “I came on this morning.”

“Well thank God for that,” Angela said in heartfelt tones. “But that doesn't make things much better. You're under age. This Dan, whoever he is, may well be prosecuted for what he did. You lied to the police, you're in big trouble. It may all come to court.”

She had finally got through Chantal's defences. The girl went pale. “Court?” she echoed. “I told them I was seventeen. That woman believed me!”

“No, she didn't,” sighed Angela. “That's why she came round here this morning, to check up with me.”

“And you told her?” Chantal said incredulously.

“She asked me your age. I told her. Why should I lie? I didn't know you had, did I?”

“And I might have to go to court?”

“I don't know,” admitted Angela. “Maybe.” She looked across at her daughter. “Oh Chantal, what on earth happened? How did you get into such a situation?” She blinked hard, but the tears that had been threatening ever since the conversation had begun finally overflowed and ran down her face.

Chantal began to cry too. “I'm sorry, Mum. Really. I did have a drink, when we were at the pub. I had rum and coke, I thought it was just coke at first and then, well there was a crowd of us having a good time and it didn't seem to matter. I mean, like, even Mrs Hammond was there, it was just a laugh. Then we went back to Mad's for a party and, like, well it just sort of happened.”

At that moment, Annabel came downstairs and found them both in tears.

“Mum? Chantal? What's happened?”

“The police came round,” Chantal cried. And Annabel knew then that her mother knew everything. For a moment she felt helpless, she looked at them both sobbing and knew she couldn't cope on her own. With sudden resolution she crossed to the phone and dialled her father's number.