A Class Apart (20 page)

Linda laughed. “So much for the proud mother. Still, you’re right. Sometimes I wonder if they just have a format piece on him, and whenever he does something they just change the name of the play, and the name of the actors.”

“Precisely,” said Violet. “But I’ll put it in the scrapbook anyway. Two rashers or three?”

“Make it three, I’m starving. Is Barry coming in?”

“No. He had his an hour ago.”

“You were up early this morning.”

“How can anyone be expected to sleep with all that clattering of hooves going on outside,” Violet complained.

“I’ve told you, take the room at the front of the house, you won’t be disturbed then.”

“No. I don’t mind really. Besides, it gives me something to do, cooking breakfast for you lot.”

“And don’t think we aren’t grateful,” said Linda, sitting down at the table. “Especially me. I hate cooking breakfast. I keep meaning to draw up a roster, so that we can take it in turns to cook. But I daresay most of those half-wits don’t know one end of a frying pan from the other, so I don’t suppose there’s much point.”

Violet put a plate in front of her daughter-in-law, and turned back to the stove. “Think I’ll have three slices too,” she said, raking the bacon out of the pan. “Tea?”

“Mmm,” Linda nodded, her mouth full.

Violet poured two cups, and put them on the table. The phone began to ring. “Oh no. Who on earth can that be?” She went to answer it. “Shall I tell them to ring back after breakfast?”

“Yes,” said Linda. “Unless it’s Bob.”

Violet picked up the phone. “Hello. Yes. Yes, it is. She’s having her breakfast, can you call her back in about half an hour? Oh, I see, well, I’ll see what she says. Hang on a minute.” She turned to Linda. “It’s urgent they speak to you, apparently.”

Linda’s stomach tightened. Some sixth sense was telling her that this wasn’t going to be good news. “Who is it?”

“She didn’t say. Will you take it?”

Linda nodded, and slowly got up from the chair. Her hair was still damp, and her boots felt heavy on her feet as she walked across the flagstoned floor to the telephone. At the last minute she stopped. “I’ll take it in the drawing room,” she said.

Her mother-in-law looked surprised, but she waited until she heard Linda pick up the phone in the other room, and then she put the receiver down in the kitchen. She had sensed Linda’s unease, and wasn’t one to pry.

“Hello,” said Linda. “Linda McElfrey here. Can I help you?”

“Mrs McElfrey,” said the voice at the other end. “It’s Maureen Woodley here. I don’t know if you remember me, we met at Badminton last year.”

“I don’t think I do remember,” said Linda, “but I know who you are. Is there something I can do for you?”

There was a short silence.

“Hello? Are you still there?”

“Yes,” said Maureen. “I’m still here.”

“Has something happened to Bob?” Linda’s voice was perfectly controlled.

“No,” said Maureen. “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“Then what can I do for you?”

“Well, it is about Bob. It’s just that I thought you ought to know.”

Linda already knew what she was going to say. “Know what?”

“That your husband is having an affair with one of the cast from
Twelfth Night
, and has been for some time. I’m only telling you because I thought you should know. It’s awful when a man is cheating on his wife, and everyone knows but her. So I thought I should tell you.”

“I see,” said Linda, trying to keep her voice steady.

“And . . .” Maureen paused, sounding uncertain. “I just thought you would like to know. But I’m sure that it’s nothing too serious. It’s you that Bob loves, everyone knows that.”

Linda felt a flash of anger. “I take it Bob has confided all this to you,” she said.

“Uh, well, no.” Linda waited for her to go on. “They are together most nights, when he’s in London.”

“Who is she?”

“As I said, one of the cast.”

“Is it you, Maureen?”

“No, no, it’s not me.” Maureen sounded surprised.

“No,” said Linda, “of course, it wouldn’t be. Bob would never be so stupid as to pick someone who is capable of doing what you’re doing now.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I think you heard me.”

“Really, I’m only trying to help. I’m telling you this for your own good.”

“And tell me, Maureen, what possible good do you think it will do, telling me?”

“So that you can fight to keep him.”

“So that I can fight to keep him?”

“Yes.”

Linda hesitated before she spoke. “Let me tell you this, Maureen Woodley. Even if what you are saying is true, and I doubt it, I don’t need any interfering little busybodies who get pleasure from sticking their noses in other people’s business ringing me up to tell me. Now, I suggest you put the phone down, and go and tell Bob what you have done. I will let him deal with you. As far as I am concerned I never want you to ring this number again, or to attempt to make contact with me in any way. You must be a particularly sick person to do what you have just done. Goodbye.” And Linda slammed the phone down.

She hadn’t raised her voice but she was shaking, and she kept her hand pressed on the phone. She gazed towards the window, trying to steady her nerves, but she was overcome by fear and the growing knowledge that the very roots of her life were giving way beneath her. She should have known, of course. All the signs had been there. Maybe she had known, but hadn’t wanted to admit it. But now that bitch of an actress had faced her with it.

Her first instinct was to ring Bob. But if Maureen Woodley had been telling the truth, he wouldn’t be at the mews house. Nevertheless, she dialled the number. There was no reply.

She could go up to London. Go to the theatre, and find him. But his mistress, whoever she was, would be there. Linda didn’t like scenes any more than Bob did.

But she must do something. She loved her husband, and she didn’t want to lose him. And in her heart she knew that he still loved her. At the moment he might think that he didn’t, but she knew that he did. They could work this out.

She walked back into the kitchen, still reeling from the telephone call.

“Come on,” said Violet, “your breakfast is getting cold.”

Linda looked at it. “I’m not hungry.”

Violet put down her tea and stared at her daughter-in-law. Linda was gazing into the fire, her hands in the pockets of her jacket, her hair falling across her face.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“No one important.”

Violet started to clear the table. Linda would talk when she was ready. The telephone call had been something to do with Bob, Violet was sure of that. But it was something about Bob that didn’t concern his mother. Not yet, at any rate. She wasn’t blind. She had noticed that things had been strained lately. If Linda and Bob were having problems, well, it was for them to sort them out. They both knew that they could rely on her, but it must be for them to come to her, she wasn’t going to interfere.

She turned on the tap and began to fill the washing-up bowl with dishes. Linda was still standing in front of the fire, deep in thought.

“I’ll make some fresh tea,” said Violet, “your other one’s turned cold.”

Linda looked up, then glanced at the table. “No need. I’ll drink that one.”

Violet pulled a face and shrugged.

Linda picked up the cup, and drank the cold tea. Then she walked over to her mother-in-law and slipped an arm round her shoulders.

“Violet,” she said. “How would you feel about becoming a grandmother?”

“. . . yes, and I’ve actually got a letter here from Kensington Palace saying thank you very much. Can you believe it?” Kate grinned across the room to Ashley, then turned back to the phone.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said. “Of course I’ll get it framed . . . Oh honestly, Daddy, surely one’s enough? . . . OK . . . Yes, see you at the weekend . . . No, no, I promise I will come this weekend . . . OK, see you then.” She put the phone down, and immediately Ashley saw her face fall.

“Something the matter?”

“Yes, everything, if you must know. Ellamarie’s not speaking to me because I stood up Nicholas Gough the other night. Jenneen keeps shouting at me for moping around, and now my father is complaining because I haven’t been to see him. And as for my book, forget it, I can’t do it. Is that enough to be going on with?”

“Sounds plenty to me,” said Ashley. “Why did you stand up Nick?”

“Because Joel was coming round.”

“Joel rang after Nick, I presume.”

“You presume correct.”

“Ellamarie fixed that date up to try and help you out, you know.”

“I know.” Kate pushed at her hair irritably. “Everyone’s trying to do everything to help me out. Well, I just wish everyone would leave me alone. I can run my own life, thank you very much. And don’t you start having a go at me as well. We can’t all manage our lives as well as you, we’re not all
that
fortunate.”

“Steady on now,” said Ashley.

“No, just you steady on. You’re about to start pontificating to me about what I should and shouldn’t do, just like everyone else. Well don’t! Take a look at your life, Ashley, and then take a look at mine. You reek of good luck and privilege. You’ve got that wonderful old man you’re always going to visit, so you can talk about Julian any time you like.” Ashley’s eyes flashed, but Kate went on. “You’ve got your ex-husband sniffing around, who just can’t wait to have you back. You’re doing so bloody well at that damned agency I suppose you’re going to be promoted any day now – another something to alleviate Julian’s conscience, to add to the gleaming white Mercedes sports car that you drive your perfect son around in at the weekend. You make me sick, Ashley. All of you make me sick,” and with that she burst into tears.

Ashley went to sit beside her and put her arms round her. She let her cry, then when Kate was calm again she said: “I take it you still haven’t heard from him?”

Kate shook her head.

“When did he say he would call?”

“Last week some time.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

“Oh, just a few thousand times,” Kate answered, bitterly. “He’s not there. Either that, or he won’t speak to me. The trouble is it’s been like this for weeks. I don’t hear from him for days on end, then suddenly he just turns up out of the blue, or drops a note through my front door to tell me what time to be ready. He always assumes that I will be waiting, and available, and – damn and bloody blast it! – I always am.”

She turned to look at Ashley. “I haven’t told anyone else this,” she whispered, her face red and swollen from crying, “I’ve been too ashamed to tell anyone. But sometimes, some nights, I walk to his flat and stand outside. I’m too afraid to go in, so I just stand there, in the hope that he might come out. Can you believe it? God, how can I humiliate myself like this?”

Ashley smiled and reached out to touch Kate’s hair. “I’ve done it too,” she said. “So many nights I’ve driven round to Julian’s, parked and just sat there in the car. I’ve never known why. After all, I see him every day. I suppose it’s some bizarre need to torture ourselves.”

Kate hugged Ashley. They could give one another the understanding and support that only women who were made to suffer by a man could give.

“I can’t write either,” Kate said, as she pulled away. She tried to laugh. “I haven’t been able to write for weeks. Oh, I can write for the magazine, I can do that standing on my head. But my book, it’s over. I know I’m not going to be able to do it.”

“You will,” Ashley assured her. “Not now maybe, but you will.”

Kate got up and started to pace the room. “Ash, I’m sorry for all those things I said to you just now. I’m jealous, you see. I’m so jealous of you that I hate you sometimes. I want to be like you. I want to be able to throw myself into my work, the way you do. How much new business have you won these past two months for Julian Arbrey-Nelmes?” She spat out his name, then held up her hand. “No, don’t tell me, I don’t think I could bear it. It’s in the millions anyway, isn’t it?”

Ashley didn’t answer. Kate was right. She was right too about the promotion. Julian had only hinted at it, but she knew it would be coming her way soon. If her instincts were right, it would happen at Easter. His apology for marrying someone else.

There was a knock at the door.

“And that’ll be Ellamarie. She’s been with Bob today, all day, talking over the
Queen of Cornwall.
She’s got her first feature film, and she’s got Bob. And Jenneen – she should be here too to rub my nose in her success. If she wasn’t filming somewhere in the Highlands, no doubt she would be.”

Ashley got to her feet. “Right, you can cut the self-pity now, Kate. I’ll answer the door.”

Ellamarie came bursting in with the news that Nicholas Gough was to play Tristram, and wasn’t it just marvellous that the three of them, her, Nick and Bob, would be working together again? “The world is just perfect,” she sighed, helping herself to wine.

Kate burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Ellamarie was astonished. “What did I say?”

Ashley told her.

Ellamarie groaned. “Oh shit! I should have known. I got carried away with myself and didn’t stop to think. But hell, Ash, what does she see in him? He’s an out and out bastard.”

“Try convincing her of that.” Ashley looked at her watch. “Look, I’ve got to run. We’re doing a night shoot tonight and I’m supposed to be there at eight, and I told Keith I’d meet him for a drink before I left. Can you stay with Kate for a bit?”

“Sure,” said Ellamarie. “How are things with you and Keith?”

Ashley shrugged. “I’ll let myself out. Good luck.”

Ellamarie gave a grim smile and went to find Kate in the bedroom. She was lying on the bed, so Ellamarie walked over and pulled the curtains.