Love and Devotion (40 page)

‘You’re always so fair, aren’t you?’

‘When you’ve lived as long as I have, you know there’s usually more than one way of looking at a thing.’

‘That’s what I keep trying to tell Mum, but she doesn’t listen. I told her I couldn’t get rid of the baby and run the risk of thinking in years to come that today my child would have been starting school, or, today my child would have been learning to drive. I don’t want a life of what might have been.’

‘And what did your mother say?’

‘She said I already had that to look forward to, and that I would forever ask myself what might have been if I hadn’t got pregnant.’

Gran looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder if your mother often asks herself a similar question?’

‘What? If she hadn’t had Gemma and me?’

‘No, of course not. But maybe there are things your mother regrets not having done.’

 

 

 

 

It was almost two in the morning, and with her bedroom door shut, Harriet was once again decoding her sister’s emails. It was the first opportunity she’d had to look at them since getting back from Dublin and she’d decided, in order to tackle the job in a more methodical manner, to go right back to the very first email Felicity had exchanged with her lover. It had taken the best part of two hours to read six messages — three written by Felicity and three sent by her lover - and so far she hadn’t come up with a single clue as to the man’s identity. Had they set out to be deliberately careful? Or had it been part of some elaborate game that added a further frisson of excitement to what they were doing? What she’d read tonight was mostly about a night spent together in a hotel; how much it had meant to them and how long before they could be together again.

There were numerous references to Felicity’s state of mind, mostly how unhappy she had become in her marriage. Trapped was a word that appeared again and again, not with regard to the children, as Harriet might have supposed, but by the lack of choice she had in her life.

‘I see my life as nothing more than an existence,’
Felicity had written.
‘If it wasn’t for the children — and you — I would question why I bother at all.’

Harriet was shocked. She had never heard her sister speak in this manner. It was as if she was reading a stranger’s letters.

‘I have tried so very hard to be more like the girl Jeff married,’
Felicity had also written,
‘but I can’t do it. I’m not the person I was then. Some days I feel such contempt for him, that he doesn’t see how unhappy I am or how unfaithful. He just doesn’t seem to notice me any more.’

The depth of her sister’s unhappiness was more disturbing to Harriet than the original discovery of the affair.

But was the affair with Miles? That was the question. Frustratingly, the emails had yielded nothing of any use and she was no nearer the truth. Nor had there been a chance to see Miles recently so that she could subtly drop hints into the conversation and watch his reaction. If she was honest, in the light of Dominic’s assumption she felt uncomfortable imagining herself in his company. She had always been so fond of him, but now she couldn’t view him in the same way. As well as being embarrassed that she had misinterpreted his friendliness towards her for something deeper, she also felt angry with him, having come to the conclusion that he might have been using her. Was being with her his way of still being close to Felicity? If so, it was sick and she was having none of it.

But all this was pure conjecture. There was always the chance that Dominic was wrong. That he’d leapt to a wildly off-beam conclusion. In which case, it was important to keep an open mind. And her distance. Miles had phoned her this afternoon and invited her out to dinner. ‘I’ve got this insatiable desire for some poppadoms and a deadly-strength vindaloo,’ he’d said. ‘Do you fancy joining me?’

She’d used the children and her parents to put him off, giving some feeble reason why she had to be at home, then she tried to deflect him by saying she had an appointment to view a house tomorrow. ‘I’m quite excited about this one,’ she told him, ‘it really seems promising.’

Except it had backfired and he’d said, ‘Why don’t I come with you? Another pair of eyes to check out the place might be useful.’ It would have been churlish to say no, so she had agreed to meet him at the property in the morning.

Still staring at the laptop screen, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. Another twenty minutes and she’d call it a day. If she didn’t get to bed soon, she wouldn’t make that appointment later this morning. Just as well it was Sunday.

She pulled up another email but tiredness was turning her brain to mush and her thoughts slipped away from her once more.

When Carrie had learned that Harriet had seen Dominic in Dublin she’d wanted to know when he was coming to see them again. ‘He didn’t mention anything,’ Harriet told her gently, ‘and I know he’s very busy at the moment.’ It had seemed too cruel to tell Carrie the truth — that it was unlikely Dominic would show his face in Maple Drive for at least another twelve months.

‘Do you think he’ll come home for Christmas?’ Carrie had persisted. ‘He’d probably want to be with his parents and his brother, wouldn’t he?’

‘I expect you’re right,’ Harriet said. Again it would have been unkind to point out that it was years since Dominic had spent the festive holiday in Maple Drive. He once told her that Cambridge was at its bleakest during Christmas — bitterly cold and devoid of twittering students - and that nowhere else could offer him such brutal solitude.

At the same time as fielding Carrie’s questions about Dominic, Harriet had done some probing of her own, trying to ascertain how things were going at school. She had posted the bullying letter through the letter box at school on Tuesday, on her way to work, well before the children had set off for school with their grandfather. She’d put it in an envelope marked Private and written a brief accompanying note. Later that afternoon she’d received a phone call from the headmistress saying that it hadn’t been difficult to work out who had been behind the letters and that the group of girls involved had been spoken to, as well as their parents. That the matter had been dealt with so readily should have pleased Harriet, but she hadn’t shared the headmistress’s confidence that it was now behind them. ‘Isn’t there the small but vitally important business of building bridges to get on with?’ she’d asked. ‘Carrie has been made to feel like a social outcast. How are you going to rectify that situation?’

‘It’ll take some time, but let me assure you Miss Swift, we’ll get there, together.’ Harriet had just picked up on the emphasis of the word together when Mrs Thompson said, ‘It might help if you got more involved with school, mixed with the other parents and got to know them. Have you thought of joining the PTA? I know they’re always crying out for extra helping hands. Never more so than right now, what with the Christmas fayre and the nativity play coming up next month.’

Harriet didn’t think there was a PTA in the world that was ready for her particular brand of helping hands and said, ‘I’m sorry but I don’t have the time.’

‘Well, maybe you could take advantage of the parents’ evening next week and meet some of the other parents. The PTA will be there providing coffee and biscuits for everyone.’

From what Harriet had so far seen of the parents, she thought she’d rather cover herself in raw chicken livers and get to know a tank of piranhas.

Once again she was left with the uneasy feeling that the onus was back on her. Was that what being a parent was about? Always feeling that it was down to you to solve everything?

She had raised the topic of school several times with Carrie in the hope that her niece might toss her plaits and say, ‘I had such a great day at school today. Everyone was so friendly towards me.’ But all she shoe-horned out of Carrie was that she was bored at school. This didn’t come as a surprise to Harriet. Despite not fully understanding what key stages Carrie was supposed to be achieving, Harriet knew her niece was quite bright. Will had said much the same the other night when they’d had their firework party. After a few glasses of wine, while the children were tucking into hotdogs and getting themselves covered in ketchup, Harriet had found herself confiding in him about the bullying letter. He’d suggesting having an all-out heart-to-heart with Carrie: ‘Give her the opportunity to get it off her chest,’ he’d advised.

‘But I wanted to give her the sense of having coped with it by herself. I thought it would be more empowering.’

He’d frowned and said, ‘Is that because that’s how you always do things? Single-handedly taking on the world? It can be a tough and lonely business being such a courageous pioneer.’

It was an odd comment to make, but what he’d come up with later, when he was leaving, surprised her even more. ‘I have a spare ticket for the Jools Holland concert at the Apollo in Manchester next week; I don’t suppose you’d like to go, would you?’

Dora had been hovering at the door with them as Will had offered to walk her home, and she gave Harriet an embarrassing wink, at the same time giving Will a nudge with her elbow and saying, ‘If Harriet doesn’t want to go, I’m sure I could make myself available.’

Will had laughed in that easy way of his and said, ‘I wouldn’t want to come between you and Derek.’ During the course of the evening, Dora had talked at length about Derek, her wine-importing boyfriend, making them all laugh with her plans to snare this one before he got away. Somehow Will had left without Harriet giving him an answer to his question. She hadn’t seen him since and because he hadn’t gone to the trouble to ask her again, she was left to think that he’d thought better of his invitation.

She rubbed her face hard and focused her thoughts on the coded email in front of her. It was a particularly long one; perhaps it would be better to leave it until another night. But steeling herself, she began the painstaking process of deciphering Felicity’s lover’s words. It was Miles whom she now pictured as the writer. And as before, his language veered through a stellar gamut of emotions, from euphoria that Felicity should want to be with him, to desperate and heart-wrenching despair that she might regret what they had got themselves into. Harriet had to wonder what it was about Felicity that could have brought a man to his knees like this. She couldn’t imagine anyone feeling the same for her.

Scrolling down, she came to a paragraph that had her senses on full alert. She slowly pieced together the coded words, pressing a finger to her lower lip as she often did when concentrating. When she’d finished, she stared at the screen, then grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. She jotted down the words and read them through one more time.

It was difficult for Harriet to believe that she had finally found the proof she needed. But there it was; the evidence proved that it really had been Miles with whom Felicity had been having an affair. What’s more, she could clearly remember the day in question. She could also remember telling her sister not to be so stupid. How boring she must have seemed in comparison to Felicity. In her heart, she’d known that Dominic had been right. He’d said he knew his brother and he clearly did. Better than Harriet did.

The next thing she did was to hit the delete button and wipe the disk clean. She had achieved her objective. There was no need now to keep a single word of what had passed between Felicity and Miles. As she sat back in her chair and pondered what she’d discovered, her cheeks suddenly burned fiercely at the thought of Miles and Felicity in bed together.

Ever since Dublin, she had tried to suppress this train of thought, but now that she knew the truth, she couldn’t. She was surprised how much it hurt. She had only fantasised about Miles for a blink of an eye, but once more it was as if Felicity had spoilt things for her - first Dominic, now Miles. Oh, she’d never truly believed that Dominic would love her when they were teenagers, but if Felicity hadn’t been there, well, who knows, he might actually have paid her more attention, perhaps treated her as an equal and not as the younger sister permanently cast in the shadow of the prettier and more interesting older one. And now it had happened all over again with Miles. He had been heart, body and soul in love with Felicity, therefore Harriet could only ever be second best in his eyes. She wouldn’t have believed it possible, but she suddenly hated her sister. And Miles.

Her thoughts turned to the coming day, when she would be seeing Miles. She decided it would be better to take the children with her. She had thought she would view the house without them, that maybe it was unsettling for them to see too many potential homes, but now she thought they would make a convenient shield to hide behind. If she spent any time alone with Miles it was almost inevitable that she would end up telling him she knew about him and Felicity. In her current frame of mind, she didn’t think this would be a good idea. She needed time to think about what she now knew. Would it, for instance, be better for the children’s sake if their mother’s secret remained exactly that, a secret? Given the measures Miles and Felicity had taken to hide their affair, it was probable that Miles had never confided in anyone, which in turn meant the only other person who knew about it was Harriet. So long as she remained quiet no one else would ever find out.

But with a jolt, she suddenly remembered Dominic and sat up straight. Dominic was the last person on earth whom she should have told. Even if he was merely armed with the suspicion that his brother had been having an affair with Felicity, he’d be capable of almost anything. With a sickening sense of misjudgement, she covered her face with her hands. What had she done?