First Friends (47 page)

She hesitated as she approached the gate. Was Jane a back-door person? When visiting most of her friends it would not occur to Cass to knock at the front door and then wait politely to be let in. Much more likely would be for her to let herself in through a back or kitchen door calling: ‘Hi! It's me!' Jane, however, was not what she would term a friend and Cass couldn't imagine Jane walking into anyone's house uninvited, however well she knew them.

As it was, the problem was solved for her. As she advanced up the drive the front door opened and Jane stood waiting for her.

‘Hi!' cried Cass, her glance travelling over Jane's clothes and hair and wondering, as usual, where on earth she had found those awful old jeans—and that jersey. How she could go out and choose things like that was beyond Cass's powers of imagination. And why did her hair look as if it had been attacked by a knife and fork? She could be quite attractive if she tried.

‘Hello. Go on in, it's the room on your left.' Jane shut the front door behind her wondering, as usual, why Cass always had to dress up. She obviously spent a fortune on her clothes which seemed so pointless stuck out here in the middle of nowhere.

‘What a cosy room!' Cass turned to beam at Jane who was well aware that her lounge-diner could have been dropped into Cass's drawing room quite easily and with room to spare. ‘I had no idea these houses were so nice.'

You've only seen one room, thought Jane sourly, and then pulled herself together. She'd get nowhere if she let her antagonism overcome her.

‘Yes, they're quite cosy but a bit on the small side. Actually the house is one of the things I want to talk to you about but I'll make the coffee first.'

She went off to the kitchen while Cass did an inventory of the small, neat room. Three-piece Dralon-covered suite at one end . . . a round coffee table with a glass top inset . . . television on its own table . . . various pot plants . . . a ghastly picture of a shoreline with big breakers turning to white horses. Cass shuddered and glanced through to the
dining area. One oval teak dining table . . . four matching chairs (more Dralon) . . . another ghastly picture—this time of an Italian child with tears trickling from its improbably huge eyes. How incredibly clean and highly polished everything was; perhaps she ought to have Jane cleaning for her instead of Hammy. On second thoughts, that wouldn't work now that Alan had been made up. One couldn't have one officer's wife cleaning for another officer's wife—not at all the thing!

‘Come and sit down.' Cass jumped as Jane, with a loaded tray, spoke from the doorway.

‘Right.' Cass sat herself down in one of the armchairs. ‘Gosh, that looks good.'

‘Yes,' Jane surveyed the tray glumly, despising herself for bringing out the best china and baking some special biscuits. She'd even bought lump sugar, though she hadn't any tongs. The fresh coffee smelt delicious as she poured it from the glass jug. Why not just the usual instant in a mug?

‘Thanks,' Cass accepted the coffee and took two biscuits. ‘Now, come on, what's all this about? I'm dying of curiosity.'

Silly cow, thought Jane, but at least it makes it easier than pretending it's a purely social visit. ‘I'm in a mess.' Might as well come straight to the point. ‘The only other person who knows anything about it is Mrs Hampton and she told me to ask you for advice.'

‘Did she really?' Cass arched her brows. ‘It all sounds very mysterious.'

‘When Alan got made up,' began Jane, somewhat desperately, ‘he became different somehow, bad-tempered, like, and sort of, well, unapproachable. He began to nag at me, said I'd never make an officer's wife, criticised my clothes, you know what I mean?'

Cass nodded silently—and who could blame him? she thought—and sipped at her coffee.

‘Well, things went from bad to worse. We were always rowing and I was very miserable.' She paused and swallowed. ‘Alan'd gone off to sea and I met up with an old boyfriend. We'd nearly got married
backalong but somehow it didn't happen and when we met up again, well . . . '

Cass nodded. ‘I know,' she said, ‘it was nice to find an old friend when you were so unhappy, someone who knew you well and was still fond of you.'

‘Exactly!' cried Jane with relief. Cass made it sound very normal. ‘He was such a comfort, see? We could talk about old times and he made me laugh.' She paused again.

‘How important that is,' remarked Cass thoughtfully. ‘One is always so attracted to people who make one laugh. And so you found yourself in bed with him?'

‘Well, yes.' Jane was taken aback, she hadn't expected Cass to get to the point quite so quickly.

‘Understandable.' Cass helped herself to another biscuit. ‘And now what? Do you want to leave Alan and go back to the boyfriend?'

‘No! No, it's not that. I thought I did for a bit but it wouldn't work, I can see that now. It's taken me long enough to find out, mind, but I know it now. It's Alan I want. We've talked it over and he's changed again—come more like he used to be. We're going to try again, see?'

‘So what's the problem? Are you afraid to tell the boyfriend?'

‘I'm pregnant.' Jane placed her untouched coffee back on the tray. ‘Alan thinks it's his,' she said, ‘I've let him think it's his.' She looked at Cass defiantly. ‘It could be his! There's a fifty-fifty chance, see? Anyway, what else can I do? I'm not having an abortion.'

‘Of course not.' Cass refilled her cup and ladled in cream and sugar absentmindedly. ‘I'd have done exactly the same in your place. We'll just have to hope it doesn't have ginger hair or something or Alan might smell a rat.'

‘I don't think there's any danger of that, they've both got the same colouring. In fact, they're very alike. Probably that's what attracted me to Alan in the first place, his being so like Ph ‘ She paused,

‘Like this other man.'

Cass seemed not to have noticed the slip. ‘Of course, it still may be a problem genetically. After all, you don't know what the grandparents
were like.' She caught sight of Jane's puzzled face and stopped. There was no point in worrying her unnecessarily. ‘Yes, well, that's OK then, but I must say that if that's the case I can't see what the problem is.'

‘You see it's OK with Alan. He doesn't know anything about . . . this other man and he thinks the baby's his. That's all right, but if . . . the other man finds out that I'm finishing with him he'll probably do something dreadful. Oh yes he will!' This in answer to the faintly quizzical expression on Cass's face. ‘You don't know him. He's rough! And he's got a really terrible temper, he's been in trouble with the police and allsorts. If he finds out he's quite capable of coming over and doing something bad, ‘specially if he's had a few drinks.'

‘But I don't see how he can help but know?' Cass frowned in an effort to understand. ‘I assume you let this chap think that the baby was his and that you were going to go off with him. If you stay with Alan he must find out.'

‘Yes, but you see, he needn't!' Jane leaned forward, regaining her self-control. ‘Alan's been appointed to Chatham. He joins in a few weeks' time and I want us to get away quick before Philip finds out.' It was no good, in her eager intensity the name slipped out. She did not notice and if Cass did she made no sign.

‘Right, I see what you're getting at, but how on earth . . . '

‘Exactly! You see the problem. I've got to sell or rent and get Alan away without anyone knowing. But how?'

Cass sat still, concentrating hard. ‘Do you plan to move into a married quarter?'

Jane shrugged. ‘Dunno.'

‘OK. Now look, I think I can help.'

‘Really?' Jane gaped at Cass in astonishment. To be honest she hadn't seen how Cass could possibly help but so far Mrs Hampton had been right. Seeing Cass giving her all to Jane's problems, showing nothing but a willingness to help and offering no criticism, made Jane look again at her guest and she felt her dislike beginning to thaw.

I think so. I know a couple who want to rent a place around here. They're Navy, but they don't want a married quarter. The husband's
already living in the mess in
Drake
so they could move in at any time. They're so desperate that they'll take what I recommend and they'll jump at this house. So that's this end sorted out. Chatham's not so easy but I know quite a few people in the area and I may be able to find you a hiring there. I'll make some ‘phone calls this evening. Now, when's Alan home next?'

‘Not for a few weeks, unless it's unexpected, and then he's got two weeks' leave before he goes to Chatham.'

‘Right! Then what we've got to do is to have everything tied up so that you go to Chatham more or less the day after he comes home on leave so he doesn't have a chance to go around telling people that you're off. It means you can't take any furniture, of course, so you'll have to go to a furnished place. D'you mind that?'

‘I don't mind anything so long as we get away in one piece,' said Jane, fervently.

‘How will Alan take it?'

‘Dunno. After all, he wouldn't be able to hang around down here to sell the house. It would be up to me anyway, wouldn't it?'

‘OK. So you tell him that being preggers you don't feel up to all that and you've had this offer to let that you couldn't refuse but it has to be let furnished and you have to be out by a certain date or you'll lose it. You leave a key with me and when this couple arrive I'll let them in and sort all that out for you. We'll get something legal sorted out. I'll ask Martin, our chap, about that.'

Jane stared at her and a twinge of resentment returned. She would be the sort who would call her solicitor by his Christian name but you had to hand it to her, she'd got all her marbles.

‘All we've got to do now,' Cass continued, ‘is to find you somewhere in or near Chatham, otherwise it all falls to the floor. It's so infuriating that wives aren't allowed to apply for quarters and so stupid too. After all, if the Navy hadn't appointed Alan to Chatham you wouldn't be going. Still, that's the rule and by the time Alan can apply, your secret would be out of the bag. Never mind. I'm sure we'll manage. So! Is there anything else?'

‘Well, no, you seem to have it all sorted out,' Jane gestured, helplessly. ‘I don't know what to say.'

‘Don't say anything. What are friends for? I'll let you know what happens when I've made a few ‘phone calls. In fact, I might hurry home now and make a start. No time to lose.'

‘Well, if you're sure . . . ' Jane stood up, awkwardly. ‘It's really good of you. I'll pay for the calls, of course.'

‘Oh, don't be daft!' Cass gathered up her bag. ‘I'll let you know as soon as I've got some news. Thanks for the coffee.'

Jane watched her walk down the garden path. Even now she couldn't like her. She had a strange sensation of fear, shuddered and then shook herself mentally as she shut the door.

‘Pull yourself together,' she said, ‘it's the baby making you feel fanciful. Old Cass wouldn't hurt a fly and she's solved your problem anyway—well, almost. I think I'll make myself a decent cup of instant.'

Charlotte never found the opportunity to talk to Tom. On the occasions when he was at home he was preoccupied and, although he was still affectionate, it was evident that his thoughts were elsewhere. It was impossible, whilst he was in this mood, to arrive at that state of intimacy with him that would have been necessary for the opening of her innermost heart. He would disappear for hours on end and when he arrived back he would be evasive as to where he had been. Charlotte recognised—after years of living with Cass—a disturbing pattern in his behaviour and began to feel worried. However, a conspiracy between the twins and Hugh, designed to keep her up to the mark and off to Blundells without any last-minute panics, kept her busy and full of plans for the new term. The sixth form, they assured her, was quite different from school as she had known it so far, and Hugh promised her visits to him in Bristol in an effort to show her that she had her own life to lead and that it was time she started to grow up. Since Cass seemed to be living a very muted life at present, with only the occasional dashes off to Exeter to lunch with some girlfriend or other, Charlotte was coming to the decision that she must take a chance and leave her parents to their own devices. Such golden things were promised her and she couldn't seriously believe that her father was playing around.

She went off with Oliver quite happily, prepared to overcome her shyness and fear of new things and strange people, and armed with the promise from Hugh that, on her first exeat, he would come down and take her out.

For Charlotte that weekend was like a dream come true. On Saturday morning she and Hugh went riding. In the evening they went into Plymouth to a cinema and finished the day off with a Chinese meal. On Sunday they took a picnic and drove first to Dartmouth, where they wandered by the river and through the town, quiet now with the tourists gone, before driving along the coast to Slapton Sands. The wonderful autumn weather, which seemed as if it would last for ever, was quite warm enough to make picnicking on the beach delightful. Hugh was a good companion. He made her laugh with stories of his tutors and fellow students and she was fascinated by his description of university life.