Wishful Thinking (43 page)

CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY:
Ballad

Summer was fading into autumn (it always does, of course, but that doesn't make it any better), the Big Heat was over, and the trees were changing into their seasonal tints of orange and gold. Not that you see many trees on your average London street, but those we did see looked good. I was told there were spectacular sunsets, if you could only get the buildings out of the way. And with the autumn came Andy Pearmain.

Lin had screwed her courage to the sticking point – after constant urging by Georgie and me – and had declared, with wan resolution: ‘I'll tell him myself. I'll tell him everything. But
not
with her there.' So we had to deal with Catriona, sweeping her off for an orgy of shopping in Knightsbridge and Bond Street. Never had two fully paid up members of the shopping sex felt less inclined for retail therapy. To further complicate matters, Vee Corrigan was ill, and as we couldn't babysit both Andy's fiancée and Lin's children, she had to do a last-minute search for a child minder, and was forced to settle for Sean, who was staying at his mother's after a job abroad and had been trying to rediscover fatherhood. ‘I made him
swear
to be nice to Meredith,' Lin said later.

We were all due to meet at the Groucho around eleven, but I was the only one who was on time. Georgie tends to chronic lateness, except for business appointments, and Lin is often delayed by parental matters, but after I'd been waiting twenty minutes in the lobby I was getting restless. Andy Pearmain got there first, greeting me with faint surprise. He and Lin had spoken to fix the rendezvous, but obviously she hadn't told him any more about the plan of action. I smiled nervously and wondered what the hell to say. With him was a girl with soft uncoloured hair, springy like heather, and the fresh complexion of someone who spends lots of time outdoors. (In a decade or two she'd be weatherbeaten, but that wasn't relevant now.) We were introduced over cappuccino, swapped a few polite nothings, and then the three of us sat around, feeling awkward, glancing unobtrusively at our watches every so often.

‘Is Lin all right?' Andy asked me at one point.

With an eye on Catriona, I said: ‘Fine. She's fine.'

‘Only I thought she sounded rather . . . Anyway, what do you think of this chap Ivor? She seems to have rushed into it just a bit.'

‘Just a bit,' I said.

‘Trouble is, she's always been impulsive in her relationships. When she falls in love, she has to do it at first sight. Most of us start off as friends and then work up to it, but not Lin.'

‘We started as friends,' Catriona volunteered. ‘When I was a little girl, Andy would come over to see my parents, and bring me boxes of chocolates.'

‘Our families go way back,' Andy explained. I might have been imagining it, but I thought he looked uncomfortable with her reminiscence, since it emphasised the fact that he was nearly twenty years her senior.

Another silence fell, which lasted until Georgie arrived. She apologised fluently for her lateness, blaming it on tube delays, I glared at her, and Andy ordered more cappuccino all round. I don't normally drink a lot of coffee, and as I sipped my way through my second cup I could feel the lining of my stomach wrinkling up. Georgie was doing her best to kick-start the conversation, but with only limited success. Catriona perked up in response to her questions, telling us how they had flown down from Edinburgh the previous day and spent the evening at the theatre, Andy had suggested Shakespeare but she'd chosen a musical, then they'd had dinner somewhere very smart (‘Le Caprice,' Andy supplied), and it was so much fun, she always felt like a princess when she was with him. Would we like to see her ring?

We duly admired a large emerald surrounded by diamond chips. Although her chatter was sprightly enough I felt she wasn't completely at ease: she stole sidelong looks at Andy every so often, as though seeking his approval, and there was a false note in her vivacity as if she were talking out of tune. In between spurts of conversation, the pauses stretched out, prickly with silent thoughts. Andy appeared to be smiling on automatic, giving the small talk very little of his attention. When Lin got there at last his whole demeanour changed; it occurred to me he had been afraid she wouldn't come.

He kissed her on both cheeks and asked: ‘Where's Ivor? I thought I was going to meet him.'

‘He – he couldn't make it,' Lin stammered.

‘I've got a suggestion,' Georgie said, rising nobly to the occasion. ‘Why don't Cookie and I take Cat for a wander round Harrods – I gather that was half the reason she came to London – and leave you two to chat for a while? That way Andy misses out on being dragged round the shops and you both get a chance to catch up.'

Catriona looked pleased, Andy grateful. Lin was pale and almost haggard; I only hoped, once they were alone, she'd manage to get her story out. Meanwhile, the three shoppers left the club, piled into a convenient taxi, and set off for Brompton Road.

In Harrods, Georgie scanned the store guide for the bridal department: it was the only one with which she wasn't familiar. But Catriona had other ideas.

‘I've got all I need for the wedding,' she said. ‘Mummy had my dress made, and I'm borrowing a tiara that belonged to Andy's grandmother. What I want is some
real
clothes, the kind I've never had. Clothes like Victoria Beckham wears, or Liz Hurley.' She added with pride: ‘Andy's given me a credit card on his account. He says I can spend what I like.'

For an instant, a spasm crossed Georgie's features and I could see she was unable to speak. I rushed into the breach. ‘You mean, you're after designer labels?'

‘Yes, but . . . I want clothes I can choose myself.' I must have looked surprised, since she hastened to explain. ‘You see, I live at home most of the time. I don't earn enough to pay rent on a place of my own, and Daddy's a farmer, so he's not too well off these days, what with foot-and-mouth and everything. Mummy makes such a fuss if I buy things she doesn't like. But Andy said I could choose whatever I wanted.'

‘He told us you worked in publishing,' I said, still baffled.

‘It's a very small company, doing books in Gaelic. Mostly, I work from home, copy-editing and stuff. I did Gaelic at college.'

‘Didn't you live away from home then?' Georgie asked.

‘No. It was only just up the road, in Larnock, so I drove in every day. I've got my brother's old car.'

We said no more, but made our way to the escalators and up to Ladies' Fashions. ‘She isn't in love with him,' Georgie said to me once Catriona was safely installed in a changing room. ‘She's only marrying him as a way of escape. That, and the unlimited spending spree.'

‘Who are you to criticise?' I said. ‘You were all set to marry money, not so long ago.'

‘Yes, but I didn't, did I? I didn't even get engaged to money. I wouldn't even
sleep
with money.'

‘Maybe you just never met the right millionaire.'

At that point Catriona called out, demanding our opinion, and proceeded to parade for our benefit in an assortment of very revealing garments. Her rather boyish, small-breasted figure could carry off the wispy tops and bare midriff, but I couldn't help thinking it would be something of a shock to Andy, who liked his women wholesome and
au naturel
, with no dress sense. Clearly, the same thought occurred to Georgie. ‘You look great,' she said, ‘but you need a tan.'

‘I never tan,' Catriona said sadly, gazing down at her pallid stomach.

‘Never say never,' said Georgie. ‘Haven't you heard of faking it?'

‘Doesn't it turn orange and go all streaky?'

‘Not if you have it done professionally.'

‘I'd love to,' Catriona sighed. ‘I've always wanted to be really brown. Not that it would be much good against my hair. I wish I was blonde. Sometimes I go a bit fairer in the sun, but . . .'

I detected a diabolical gleam in Georgie's gaze. ‘We can fix that,' she said. ‘What do you think that credit card is for?'

At the Groucho, Lin was sitting in front of a cup of congealing cappuccino failing to meet Andy's eye. ‘Are you going to tell me about it?' he said gently. ‘Don't say everything's all right, because I can see it isn't. I'm not a fool, Lin. Your friend Cookie has been fobbing me off for weeks.' And, after a pause: ‘I don't understand why you won't tell me. We've known each other so long. I've never let you down, have I? I've always been here for you.'

‘You're getting married,' Lin said.

‘That won't change anything,' he responded. ‘When you get to know Cat you'll be bound to love her. The two of you have so much in common. She reminds me—'

‘Yes, you said.'

There was another, longer pause.

Then: ‘So what about Ivor? Where is he?' And, with the edge of a smile: ‘Is Ivor over?'

Lin ignored the humour. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I messed up again. I always do, don't I?'

‘Oh my dear . . . I'm so sorry.'

‘Don't be. Please don't be. You're always sorry for me. All the time we've been friends you've been sorry for me. It makes me feel so . . .
pathetic
.'

‘Don't say that. Look, I didn't like Sean: he was spoiled and superficial and thoroughly selfish. And Garry – he was just a poor mixed up kid with a lot of talent and not enough heart. Neither of them loved you or appreciated you the way they should have done. You did all the giving and they did all the taking, and I think you deserve better than that. You're not pathetic – never that. It's just . . .'

‘I'm a bad picker?'

‘I didn't say that. Maybe . . . unlucky.'

‘Thanks,' said Lin. ‘You're saying I wasted my time with Sean and Garry – and you're right. You're right. Except for the children: they weren't a waste of time.'

‘No, indeed. Your kids are great.'

Pause. Again. The conversation was laden with them, like a play by Harold Pinter.

‘How about a drink?' Andy suggested.

‘Just mineral water. Thanks.'

He ordered mineral water and two martinis, with olives.

‘I've never drunk a martini,' Lin said. ‘Except the pre-mixed kind.'

‘This is different.'

When the drinks came she sipped cautiously, ate the olive, and progressed to sipping incautiously. There was a loosening effect, both physically and mentally. She sat more easily in her chair, and began to talk through the pauses. The drawn lines he had noticed in her face softened a little.

‘I never drink this early in the day,' she remarked.

‘Maybe you need a few bad habits,' he said. ‘For special occasions.'

‘Men are my bad habit,' Lin said. ‘The wrong men.'

‘Ivor was another Mr Wrong?'

‘Yes. Oh, yes.' He saw her wince, as if in pain.

‘How did you meet him? Am I allowed to ask that?'

‘It was in a chatroom,' Lin said. ‘I was stupid. I know you have to be careful with all that Internet dating stuff – I mean, I never tried it myself, of course, but Georgie did a bit, for fun, and I used to worry about her –
I
worried about
her
! – and then she seemed to be having a good time, and I couldn't get out much, because of the kids, so I thought it was okay to use a chatroom. It felt so
safe
, sort of anonymous – I said my name was Lin but lots of people are called Lin – and it meant that every evening, with my computer, I could have a social life. I love my children but their conversation is a bit limited. When I started talking to Ivor it was – magic. We got on so well – I mean, I thought we did. We had – we seemed to have – so much in common. We'd been e-mailing each other for a few weeks when we arranged to meet. I panicked a bit at the last minute – instinct, I suppose. You should always listen to your instincts, shouldn't you?' Andy didn't answer, not wanting to interrupt the flow. ‘And then we met, and he was so attractive, and he looked at me as if I was – You know. I'd always dreamed of it happening like that. I was stupid,
stupid
 . . .' She put down the martini with a shaking hand, tears starting.

Andy took her other hand between both of his. ‘What happened?' he said, his face sharp with concern, soft with tenderness. Lin could only see the expression dimly through her tears but somehow it made her descent into weakness bearable. ‘I've never seen you like this. Don't blame yourself, whatever it was. If he deceived you – if he let you down – that's not your fault. Lin . . .'

‘I let him,' she said. ‘I wanted to believe – all the fairytale stuff. That was my fault.' She took too large a mouthful of the martini, and gasped as the raw spirit scorched her throat.

Andy handed her the water.

‘Thanks. Sorry – it's so hard to tell you. I'm so ashamed.'

‘
Ashamed
?'

‘Ivor wanted to move in. He was living in this awful bedsit, and he came to stay the night, and it seemed silly to wait, so I said yes. I'd always fallen for people quickly, like Sean, and then Garry – that took a bit longer, but not much – and I was so sure this time, or maybe I just wanted to be sure. I wanted my life to come right, fast – and it was like everything fell into place, and we were going to live happily ever after.'

‘Things don't usually work out fast,' Andy said. ‘It takes time.' And, probing carefully: ‘How did he get on with the children?'

The trickle of tears resumed. ‘He seemed all right,' she said. ‘All . . . perfectly . . . all right. He was a teacher – he got on with kids. He was always offering to babysit so I could go out with the girls. Georgie split up with Cal – her married boyfriend – and she needed a lot of support. There was one night when it was just Meredith – a Friday, the twins were with Vee – and he said she'd been naughty, and I believed him, because she's always been difficult. I
believed
him. We locked her in her room the next morning, and she climbed out of the window and ran away, and I didn't know where she'd gone, and I was going frantic. Then Cookie came, with Georgie, and they said she was at Cookie's flat, and she'd told her – told Cookie – about Ivor . . .'