Caught in the Act (10 page)

‘Sorry,' he said. ‘I just thought that it might help. I wasn't saying you didn't know or anything.'

Carol managed a smile. ‘No, no. It's OK—it's not that, it's just I'm finding it hard to get my head round the language. You re ally have to concentrate to make it make sense.'

He nodded. ‘Mr Bearman suggested we might need a line-by-line session to get the meaning. Most of it's OK, it's odd phrases that I don't get but they throw the whole thing out totally.'

‘It makes more sense said aloud,' Carol said.

Simmering away just below the stilted but apparently normal conversation, attraction and
desire crackled and rolled like a summer storm, making the hair on the back of Carol's neck stand up. Her tongue felt as if it was too big for her mouth and everything she said sounded either gibberish or totally inane.

She and Gareth were sitting side by side on a big roll of sisal netting that the school used for the cricket teams to practise in. She could smell him, feel the heat of him. It made her heart beat so loud that she couldn't hear herself think.

‘So where did we get to?' he said, glancing back at the script.

Carol could barely hear his voice above the roar of her pulse and the white noise of lust. ‘Halfway down page forty-two, Lady M, all outrage and fury because it looks as if Macbeth might be bottling out, “What Beast was't then/That made you break this enterprise to me?”'

Gareth nodded. ‘She's convinced he won't go through with stabbing Duncan.'

Carol sighed. ‘Who could blame him?' She stared at the page and then began to read, trying to find the tone for a woman hellbent on murder. She read haltingly—and on down the page until she got to, ‘“I have given suck, and
know/How tender ‘tis to love the babe that milks me—”' Blushing furiously, Carol looked up and realised with horror that Gareth was looking thoughtfully at the curves in her school blouse. It did nothing at all to help her concentration. She took a deep breath.

‘“I would, while it was smiling in my face/Have pluck'd my nipp—”' She stopped dead, totally unable to carry on. Nipple was a word too far. She could feel Gareth's eyes as hot as hands on her body, felt a great rolling wave of desire that almost made her choke, and froze. ‘Sorry,' she mumbled lamely. ‘It's all a bit much—you know.'

‘It's fine,' said Gareth gently. ‘It is a big speech,' and then, barely looking at the page, recited the line she had stumbled over: ‘“…would, while it was smiling in my face/Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums,”' all the while grinning from ear to ear.

‘The woman re ally was a total cow,' snapped Carol, slamming the book shut, but they both knew that it wasn't Lady Macbeth's morals that were making Carol blush.

Sitting there under cover of the pavilion canopy, the air heady with the smell of sisal and sunshine and sex, Carol was horribly aware
of the effect Gareth was having on her body and damned if, twenty years later, he wasn't doing it all over again.

Across the table at Burbeck House he was still grinning, the face now much older but the expression almost unchanged. Carol shivered.

He tipped a glass of apple juice in her direction by way of salute and invitation. ‘I'm not sure I can face my rhubarb crumble. How do you fancy a stroll down to the pub instead?'

Before Carol could answer Adie leaned across and nodded. ‘Damn good idea, Gareth. I don't know about you but I could murder a pint.' As he spoke most of the student contingent on the top table rose as a body. It seemed that they were planning to protect Carol from herself. She got up, more from amazement than anything else, and as she did Diana caught hold of Carol's arm and said, ‘Are you coming upstairs with me to get a jacket?'

Carol was about to say no, it was a beautiful evening, when Netty nodded on her behalf and between them they guided Carol—who was too surprised to resist—out of the dining room with all the efficiency of a police escort.

‘But it's re ally warm out there,' Gareth
protested to their retreating backs, not that it made a blind bit of difference.

‘What
is
going on?' Carol hissed furiously as Netty caught hold of her elbow.

Gareth watched their progress with interest and so, she noticed, did Fiona, who, before Carol had even reached the door, made her way back along the table towards where Gareth was sitting and slipped into the seat Carol had so recently vacated.

‘What is this about?' asked Carol, finally shaking herself free.

‘Well, you can put your tongue back in for a start,' growled Netty, handing Carol a tissue as they stepped out of the entrance hall into the warm night air.

‘What's that for?'

‘To wipe the drool off the front of your dress.'

‘What do you mean?' said Carol, instinctively looking down.

Netty shook her head. ‘You should be on a leash. That man makes me so angry. Gareth Howard was always a smooth operator at school. He's got it turned up to boil tonight.'

‘Meaning what, exactly?' snapped Carol, straightening her clothes.

Diana, busy picking her way along the path in dainty sandals, said, ‘I don't know, Netty. I've spoken to him quite a lot just recently. He seemed very nice to me.'

‘In that case why did you help her grab me?' growled Carol, rounding on Diana.

‘Because Netty told me to,' said Diana lamely. ‘And anyway, I thought we were just going upstairs to get our jackets?'

Netty snorted and mimed slapping her forehead. ‘Give me strength. The bloody man was all over you like a rash. He's looking to get laid, Carol; carry on where he left off the summer we left school. How much more explicit do you need this to be? You were like a lamb to the slaughter in there.'

‘I was not,' she said.

‘OK,' said Netty pulling out a cigarette. ‘It's just that I've met a lot of guys like Gareth in my time and, trust me, you're not in his league.'

Carol glared at her. ‘And you are?'

‘I didn't say that; the man is a wolf.'

‘Maybe that's what I wanted,' Carol growled indignantly.

Netty stared at her and lifted an eyebrow. ‘re ally?'

‘We're both grown-ups, Netty. We both
know what we're up to.' Carol could feel her colour rising. Was she going to spend the whole weekend blushing? OK, so he had been flirting, and so had she. Was it re ally that important? And also—said a little voice in the back of her head—wasn't that exactly what she had come to find out?

Netty didn't look convinced.

‘You've barely spoken to him,' Carol said crossly, trying to sound suitably outraged while making every effort to hang on to her dignity.

‘Oh, trust me, I didn't need to talk to him. What he wanted was coming over loud and clear. You'd have to have been dead not to notice,' said Netty, lighting up. For the first time in heaven knew how many years Carol re ally wished that she still smoked.

‘I don't need a moral compass, Netty—I know what I'm doing. I'm nearly forty, for God's sake. I don't need you to tell me what's right and what's wrong. I can do what I like. You did this before—remember? Radwell High? Last performance of the season? Pulling me off after the show and giving me the lecture about being careful and not getting myself hurt?' Carol could feel tears prickling and was angry with herself. ‘What was all that about?'

Netty stared at her, expression unchanged. ‘Because I cared then and I care now.'

‘What if carrying on where we left off is exactly what I want? What we both want? What if that was exactly what I came here for?' Carol could feel her temper rising, and besides, sometimes the best place to hide the truth is right out there in plain sight. ‘And you have to admit he is gorgeous.'

Netty shook her head. ‘No, he's not gorgeous Carol. He is a predator. The man is a bastard. OK, so he is a charming, good-looking bastard, but he's a bastard nonetheless. He's got it written all over him; probably runs right through him like a stick of rock. He's obviously on the make or the take or both. Trust me—I know these things.'

Carol was too angry and too hurt to speak.

‘But,' said Netty, dropping an arm around her shoulder, ‘you're going to do what you want anyway, and you're my friend, and sometimes friends do daft things, and it doesn't change anything, I'll still love you, however stupid you are.'

Carol's eyes filled up with tears. ‘Bitch,' she sniffed.

Netty laughed. ‘You say bitch like it's a bad thing.'

‘Where are we going?' asked Diana, hurrying to keep pace with them.

‘Round the back to the fire escape—Jan and I found a short cut earlier.'

‘Which reminds me, where exactly is Jan?' said Carol, looking back over her shoulder.

‘Talking to Adie, I would have thought,' said Netty, taking a long pull on her cigarette. ‘There are a lot of things those two need to talk about.'

Carol stared at her. ‘Meaning what, exactly?'

‘Meaning just that. You're not the only one who came here thinking about carrying on where they left off. We've all got a lot of history to clear up. You and Gareth, Adie and Jan—'

Carol stared at her, feeling she had missed something vital. ‘What about Adie and Jan?' But it was too late. Netty quickened the pace.

Carol sighed, letting her anger bubble away; this wasn't how she wanted the weekend to go. She hurried to catch up with Netty. ‘I know that you're telling me all this stuff about Gareth because you think it's the right thing to do—but we were only catching up,' she said gently.

‘Yeah, right,' said Netty, with a grin. ‘You and Diana re ally haven't got much in the way of a bullshit detector, have you? Maybe you should be catching on instead of catching up.'

Carol clenched her fists, instantly furious again and yet at the same time desperate to say something to clear the air. She didn't want to fall out or fight with any of them. She looked into the face of first Netty and then Diana and then sighed. ‘All right, OK, so I fancy him.'

Netty laughed like a drain. ‘re ally? Good God. You amaze me—I would have never guessed in a million years.'

‘Don't take the piss,' Carol began, but before she could re ally let rip a voice from behind them called, ‘Hello. Coooo-eeeeee. Wait for me.'

All three women turned at the sound of the not-totally-unfamiliar voice.

‘Wait for me,' said the voice again, more breathlessly and then, ‘Diana, I wondered if you could show me where my room is? I've got no idea where to go or anything.' Fiona appeared out of the gathering shadows, scuttling unhappily along the gravel path, dragging a large suitcase on wheels behind her. The three of them paused, not so much to wait as to stare.

‘Hi—God, it's a bit of a hike, isn't it? I thought I'd get the rest of my luggage taken to my room, freshen up a little bit and then maybe
we could all head down the pub, just like the good old days.'

‘What good old days were those, then?' Carol heard Netty growl under her breath as Fiona drew level with them.

‘Hello, Fiona, how are y—' began Diana quickly as nobody else made any effort to speak.

But Fiona was just a fraction too fast for her. ‘Are we all sticking to our previous roles? I mean, it seems a bit silly re ally, doesn't it? After all, it's only a read-through. I thought it might be rather nice to explore other options. Perhaps we could shuffle things around a little bit, try some other ideas out. When I was in Stratford—'

Netty rounded on her. ‘We're not in Stratford, Fiona, and we're all staying exactly as we were,' she snapped. ‘Witches, that's me, Diana and Jan, Lady Macbeth,' she nodded towards Carol, ‘and you, Mrs Macduff.' She indicated Fiona with a wave of the hand. Fiona winced. ‘Isn't that right, Diana?' continued Netty in a tone that dared anyone to say differently.

‘How did you get to be so tough?' said Carol conversationally as an aside, while Diana considered the options.

Netty looked surprised. ‘Who, me? Tough?'

‘Yes.'

‘I'm a complete pussycat,' she protested.

Carol stared at her with an expression that she hoped repeated the original question.

‘OK, so maybe it's self-preservation—in my experience people interpret kindness as weakness. I can't bear bullshit or people railroading over someone else just because they're louder or bigger—or just plain pushier.' Netty nodded in Fiona's direction as if to indicate a case in point.

‘So about changing roles,' growled Fiona. ‘I can't see any reason—'

But this time it was Diana who got in first. ‘Well, actually,' she began, ‘I do think Netty is right. I mean the whole point of the reunion is the drama tour. How it was, who we were, who we are now. It would be—be…' Carol could see Diana was struggling to come up with some valid argument There was no earthly reason why they should stick to the same roles other than for sentimental reasons, which were probably the most compelling reasons of all.

‘Inappropriate,' growled Netty. ‘This is about history, not acting.'

Happy to be let off, Diana sighed with relief. ‘Yes, exactly,' she said.

Fiona flicked a long strand of blonde hair over her shoulder. ‘I was only saying it might be fun. Obviously I take your point; although actually I toured as Lady Macbeth with a super little repertory theatre company. We had the most marvellous reviews, made
Time Out
and the
Evening Standard
.'

‘Was that before or after you were in
Casualty
?' said Netty.

Carol glared at Netty, but apparently Fiona hadn't caught the barb and said, ‘Oh, wow, you saw that, did you? Gosh.' At which point Fiona did a horrible little mock modest hand gesture that she'd probably learned at drama school to use for award ceremonies. ‘I mean, it was just a small part but it has opened
so
many doors for me. Pantomime, adverts, voiceovers. Although as they say, there re ally are no small parts, only small people.'