A Class Apart (36 page)

Blanche stirred in her sleep, and turned over. Her hair fell back onto the pillows, and the early morning sun cast a pool of light across her face.

Julian brushed his finger lightly against her cheek, he didn’t want to wake her. He was sitting up in bed beside her, watching the sun rise and wishing that he, too, could sleep so peacefully.

He had been woken again in the early hours, by that same nightmare. The one that haunted him every night now, where he found himself standing at the altar with Blanche. The vicar was asking if anyone knew of any reason why these two people before him should not be joined in holy wedlock, and every time a voice would shout that it was wrong, that he loved another, that he must not marry this woman. He knew that the voice was his own, shouting from within, warning him to stop now, before it was too late. And then he would wake up, sweating, confused.

But I love Blanche, he told himself. I really do love her. She makes me happy, she is everything I could want in a wife. So, said the voice, why are you restless?

He knew the answer. In his heart, he knew why, but until now, he had been unable to face the truth. But the truth will follow you, wherever you go, said the voice. You can never hide from the truth. Admit it. Admit that you love someone else, even more than you love Blanche. Admit that you have made a mistake. Admit it now, before it is too late.

He got out of bed, and went to stand at the window. The sun was up now, and the dawn chorus was in full flow. It was going to be a lovely day. One of the first days of spring.

The wedding was only one week away. One week, and Blanche would be his wife. He looked at her again. His face remained expressionless, and he didn’t wonder if she had doubts or fears. He knew she didn’t. He knew her so well that sometimes he knew what she was thinking, even before she said it. He had believed that this was an illustration of true and complete love, to know what was in another’s mind. But now he knew that it was an illustration of the sort of love shared between brother and sister. To know the depths of another’s mind was to know them completely, with no mystery, and no excitement left for lovers. And that was what he felt for Blanche. A brotherly affection, deep and lasting, and safe.

Stop running away, said the voice. Face it. Face it now, and accept the truth.

Ashley. Where was she now? What was she doing? He wondered if she dreamt of him, if she thought about him still. Yes, it was her who haunted his dreams, and it was because of her that the silent voice in his mind was driving him to face reality. And suddenly he felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had admitted the truth. He loved Ashley, and he always had, and in trying to deny it, he had only been lying to himself, and to her.

He longed to touch her, to see her smile, feel her softness, and smell her. That was why he was afraid. He was afraid he would never be able to hold her again, never see her smile for him again, never make love with her again. He was afraid, because if he would not be true to his own heart, his heart might never forgive him.

He turned back to the bed, and looked at Blanche. He would tell her, he had to tell her. When he took his marriage vows, there was only one woman he wanted at his side, and the sorrow he felt that that woman was not Blanche, he knew she would never understand.

The rain had come from nowhere. No warning, no fresh breeze, nothing; it had simply started to pour. Keith and Ashley quickly found that they had walked further than either of them had realized, and the run back to the village was a long one.

Keith kept laughing at her, tangled up in a hood, scarf and hat, unable to see where she was going. In the end he took her by the hand and almost dragged her back to the inn at Long Melford. By the time they arrived the rain had stopped, but they were soaked right through.

Quickly they ran upstairs to their room, which overlooked the main road through the village, and began stripping off their wet coats. All the time they were laughing, and hitting one another with their towels.

“You’re a bully!” Ashley cried, as he pushed her and she fell back onto the bed.

“Speak for yourself,” said Keith, laughing as she ducked away from him.

He threw the towel round his head, and rubbed at his hair. When he took it off again he was such a peculiar mess that Ashley yelled with laughter.

“Try looking in the mirror,” he retorted, and flopped into a chair beside the window.

“Where’s that brandy you bought on the way here?” said Ashley. “I think I could do with some.”

Keith went to his suitcase to get it. “Great idea,” he said.

They had come away for the weekend for one reason, and one reason only – or so they told themselves. Alex had gone camping with the Scouts, the first time he had been away from home. Ashley had been very nervous about his going, but Keith and her father had insisted. Alex was delighted at the idea of going away on an adventure, and Ashley had had to hide the hurt she felt, that he was so willing to go. But Keith had been firm, and although he too was a little hesitant about the idea, he had hidden it from Ashley. That was until Alex had left, the day before.

Keith poured some brandy into a tooth glass, and passed it to Ashley. She was sitting up on the bed, looking out of the window at the gloomy afternoon.

Alex would have been outraged to learn that his parents were so close at hand. But Keith had rung the farmhouse at the camp and spoken to the Scout leader to let him know that they were going to be nearby, in the unlikely event that Alex should become homesick.

“Wonder what he’s doing now?” said Ashley, not looking up as she took the glass.

“Probably sitting round a camp fire, cooking sausages, and making a thorough pig of himself,” said Keith. “I only wish I was there.” He put his arm round her. “He’ll be all right. He won’t think about us once, he’ll be too busy enjoying himself. So why don’t we do the same?”

“You’re right,” she said, and looked up at him. She caught her breath to see the expression on his face, and didn’t move as, very slowly, he lowered his head to hers and covered her mouth. She lay back, her eyes closed, and kissed him back. He began to unbutton her shirt.

For so many months they had been together, so many times, when perhaps this moment might have stolen upon them, but it never had, until now. And she knew she wanted him.

Swiftly he stripped off his own clothes, watching her face and feeling himself respond to the look in her eyes. As his fingers moved from her throat over her shoulder, and across her breast, she shivered and reached out for him, whispering for him to come to her. His eyes darkened and narrowed, and he pushed her back and moved his body above her. And then he was inside her, gently probing, and pulling, and looking down into her face. She wound her arms about his neck, and ran her tongue across her lips. He groaned and held her to him, forcing himself deeper inside her. And as his passion rose, carrying him on a tide of fulfilment, he pushed harder, held her tighter, until finally he fell heavily against her, breathing loudly and clutching her to him.

They lay together for a long time, before finally he lifted himself from her, and pulled her up to sit facing him.

“You didn’t, did you?” He brushed her hair from her face.

She lowered her eyes and whispered that it didn’t matter.

“It does to me.”

She took his hand and lifted it to her mouth. “It shouldn’t.”

He knew that she was pulling away from him. That he was losing her in the depths of her own thoughts, and he wished he could ask what she was thinking.

“Where are you going?” she asked, as he got up from the bed.

“To bath before dinner.” And he left the room.

Ashley lay back on the pillows, and looked up at the window. It was dark outside now, and a lamppost outside was the only light that lit the room. She shivered, and pulled a blanket round her. She was crying before she even knew she was crying. She tried not to call his name, but it was on her lips, and in her heart. She missed him so terribly.

Just one week, and he would be married. Just one week. No amount of pretence could change that. No amount of longing for him would bring him back to her. She still thought of him, every day, every night. She still loved him, and dreamt of him, and tortured herself with him. Giving herself to Keith had not changed that. She could not allow herself freedom in their love-making, because all the time, in her heart and in her mind, she was making love with Julian, and she was afraid she would cry out his name. Time had not healed the wound, it had only nurtured it.

She sat up abruptly, and tried to pull herself together. Tears would not change anything.

“How about a walk?” said Keith, glancing at his watch. He looked happy, and a flood of affection filled her heart. She was glad that she had made love with him. Maybe next time it would be better.

“What time is it?”

“Ten o’clock. We could wander up the street, and have a nightcap at the Bull.”

The night air was filled with the aroma of damp streets and freshly mowed lawns. It was a rich, wholesome smell, and Keith breathed it in deeply, letting out a long and heavy sigh.

Ashley watched him, and smiled.

He planted a kiss on the end of her nose. “I love you, Ash. But you already know that, don’t you?”

She nodded.

He put his arm round her shoulders and they strolled on towards the pub.

“And I love you,” she said.

He stopped. For so long he had waited for her to say those words. Just those few words that might bring both her and his son back to him, and now, when he had almost given up hope, she had said them. He turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

She nodded again. “Yes, I know what I’m saying.”

“Then you know what I’m going to ask you now?”

She smiled, and the dim streetlight caught the moisture in her eyes.

“What’s your answer?”

“My answer is yes,” she said.

He pulled her close, and held her tightly beneath the lamppost in the cobbled street. And then she knew that he was crying. She stroked his hair, trying to soothe him. And she told herself that what she was doing was right. Right for Keith, right for Alex, right for her.

TWENTY-ONE

Ashley had no way of knowing that things were going to turn out the way they did. If she had, then she knew she would never have agreed to marry Keith. But perhaps it was in saying that she would that she finally, only days before Julian was to be married, came to know her own mind.

It was seven thirty when she at last arrived home after a long and trying day on location. They were now more than five hours behind schedule on the fourth in the series of commercials for Newslink, but there had been nothing more they could do that day; they had lost the light.

She was exhausted, and badly in need of a drink. She started the usual hunt in the kitchen for the lemons. Sophia, her cleaner, had several hiding places for them, and on this particular occasion they were in the freezer. Ashley muttered angrily as she took out the solid bag; there was nothing for it, she would have to have a gin and tonic without the lemon. It was a small thing, but it irritated her beyond anything else that had happened that day.

She had just settled down in front of the TV, nursing her drink, prepared to be swamped by game shows and soap operas, when there was a knock at the door.

She toyed with the idea of pretending she wasn’t in. It would probably be Keith, and she felt guilty that she was trying to avoid him. Ever since they had returned from their weekend, two days before, he had called her at every opportunity. She had been expecting him to turn up at the flat at any time. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, but she was tired, and he would want to discuss plans for their future. She didn’t regret saying that she would marry him. How could she, when she had seen how delighted everyone had been? Her mother had wept, and her father had walked around all Sunday afternoon looking like an honorary student of the Cheshire Cat. And she was pleased it was going to happen; she just needed some time to get used to the idea, that was all.

He knocked again. She closed her eyes, knowing that her guilt was beginning to get the better of her conscience. She would have to answer it. She went to the door, preparing herself to look pleased, but as she opened it she felt her heart twist, and her mouth fell open. It was Julian.

He asked if he could come in; unable to answer, she stood back to let him pass. After closing the door, she followed him into the lounge.

He looked around the room. It felt like such a long time since he had last seen it. Nothing had changed, and he was surprised that it hadn’t. He turned to look at Ashley. Her face was drawn in confusion and, he thought, maybe anger. He felt awkward. He didn’t know what he was going to say. Or at least, he didn’t know how he was going to say it.