The Real Katie Lavender (31 page)

Was this how Neil had felt?

He drove on. Faster. And more furiously.

‘Another ten minutes,’ Lloyd said, ‘then we’ll try ringing him.’

‘It’s so unlike Stirling not to be on time,’ Pen said. ‘You can usually set your watch by him.’

‘Not to worry, I’ll go on the gate until he gets here.’

This was from Speedy Sue. The five of them – Katie, Lloyd, Pen, Speedy Sue and Posh Pam – were in the pavilion, where Katie was setting out the plates of cakes. ‘Perhaps he’s overslept,’ she suggested.

Lloyd shook his head. ‘That’s one thing he never does.’

‘I expect he’s just got stuck on the phone with someone,’ Pen said.

‘Well, wherever he is,’ Posh Pam said in her schoolmistressy voice, tapping her watch, ‘it’s five minutes to eleven, so to your posts!’

Katie exchanged a smile with Lloyd. ‘I’ll help you unwrap the cakes, shall I?’ he said when the others had gone.

It was the first time they’d been alone this morning, and the atmosphere between them was loaded with conspiratorial caution. They had decided that what had passed between them last night would, for the time being, remain a private matter. Katie was glad. She had trodden on enough toes since her arrival in Sandiford without further antagonising the Nightingale family. Who knew what they would make of her and Lloyd hooking up? No, it was a difficult situation, and one that needed careful handling. She hadn’t said anything to Lloyd, but she had woken this morning troubled by doubts. She hoped there would be a chance later to talk properly with Tess when she arrived with Ben and Zac.

Stirling didn’t know what kind of a reception he was going to get, if any; after all, she might not be at home.

He found her house, having remembered where it was when he’d dropped her off the last time he was here, and parked directly opposite in the one-way street. He stowed his mobile in the glove compartment – he’d switched it off earlier when he’d stopped for petrol. He didn’t want anyone to contact him.

Out of the car, he looked up at the terraced house. It was nicely painted, white stucco, with a dark blue wooden door with three steps leading up to it from the pavement. There were window boxes outside the two upstairs windows, and they contained the palest of creamy-yellow flowers. The houses either side were equally well cared for.

He lifted the brass knocker on the door, gave it a firm but what he hoped was a polite knock. If he’d been here earlier, when he was going through the worst of his anger and frustration, he might have banged the door knocker hard.

The door opened and Simone Montrose looked back at him. Her surprise was unconcealed.

‘I was just passing,’ he said.

She tilted her head slightly. ‘Really?’

‘Clearly I’m lying. May I come in?’

‘I suppose you better had.’ She stepped aside so he could enter. ‘I’m afraid the house isn’t very tidy. It’s been a busy week.’

He followed her through to the kitchen, which looked immaculately tidy – even to his demanding standards – and opened on to a conservatory and a long, thin garden. Everything in the kitchen was white, with chrome or stainless-steel accessories. The only colour was provided by a row of white pots containing pink and mauve orchids. There was classical music playing. Bach’s Mass in B Minor. It was a particular favourite of his.

‘Coffee?’ she said. ‘I was about to make myself a cappuccino.’

He nodded. ‘I’ll have the same. Thank you.’

She had the identical coffee machine he had treated himself to last Christmas. He suddenly pictured his brother here in this light and airy kitchen, sitting at the glass-topped table, drinking coffee or enjoying a glass of wine and a meal. It was very different to life at The Meadows. Much as he loved Pen, Stirling would never cope on a permanent basis with her carefree attitude to housekeeping.

The coffee made, Simone said, ‘Shall we go outside?’

Again he nodded.

He took off his jacket and they sat at a circular marble-topped table; there were only two chairs. Settled side by side, she said, ‘Why are you here, Stirling?’

‘I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t think of anyone I could talk to. Someone who would understand. Someone who won’t judge me or think I’m mad.’

She looked at him steadily. ‘Why do you think I’m the right person?’

‘Because you hardly know me and will have very little in the way of preconceived ideas about me.’

She smiled. ‘Very well. What’s on your mind?’

He told her how Gina had presented him with an ultimatum this morning.

When he fell quiet, she said, ‘And if you had to make that decision right now, your wife or Katie, what would you do?’

He glanced away, down the garden. On the parched lawn, beneath a lilac tree, a blackbird was poking about in the curled-up leaves. The bird looked like it had lost something and was determined to find it. ‘God help me,’ he said, ‘but right now I’d choose Katie.’

‘A girl who is practically a stranger, over your family?’

‘But Katie is my family as well. I want to do the right thing by her. I owe it to her. What would she think of me if I rejected her now? She doesn’t have anyone else. And I keep thinking of Fay. What would she think if I didn’t stand by Katie? She’s our daughter.’

‘Perhaps you all need a cooling-off period. Katie would understand that, wouldn’t she? A few months without any pressure, and maybe Gina would have a change of heart.’

‘But if Gina loved me, would she put me through this? Would she force me to make a decision I’d always regret?’

‘I can’t speak for your wife, but I would think she’s trying to make you demonstrate your love for her, isn’t she?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t feel I can love someone who would do that. Could you?’

She gave him a soft smile. ‘This isn’t about me.’

‘But you think I’m wrong to consider putting Katie first?’

‘Stirling, I’m not saying that at all. I’m just asking you questions and giving you the opportunity to answer honestly, and without the fear of being judged. Isn’t that why you came here? Because you thought you could trust me?’

He nodded, suddenly tired. ‘You’re right. I do trust you. And yet I barely know you.’

‘That’s often the way it goes. Shall I make us some lunch?’

‘I don’t want to intrude.’

She stood up and gave him that soft smile again. ‘You’re not intruding. It’s nice to have your company.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t look so surprised. If I didn’t like you, Stirling, I wouldn’t have invited you in.’

‘Strictly speaking, I invited myself in.’

‘I could have shut the door in your face.’

‘I’m pleased you didn’t.’

While Simone made a chicken Caesar salad, Stirling opened a bottle of white wine from the fridge – it was the most she would allow him to do. He watched her carefully chopping and slicing, her movements neat and meticulous. Dressed in a light grey long flowing skirt and a white sleeveless top, her feet bare and her dark hair tied in a loose ponytail, she looked a totally different woman to the one he’d met at Neil’s funeral, and different again to the woman with whom he’d had lunch at the Old Parsonage. She seemed to have a different guise for every time they met.

‘Glasses are in the cupboard to your right,’ she said.

He fetched them and poured the wine. ‘So how are
you
?’ he asked.

‘Oh, you know, taking each day as it comes. I keep waiting for . . .’ She stopped what she was doing, the knife she’d been using to chop the chicken poised in mid-air.

‘For what?’ he prompted.

Her shoulders slumped and she put the knife down. She turned to face him. ‘For the emptiness and loneliness to stop,’ she said, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. ‘I feel so very alone.’

He knew exactly what she meant. He was surrounded by people all the time – at work and at home – but he felt isolated. Cut off and adrift. ‘I feel it too,’ he said.

‘I know. I sensed it the first time we spoke on the telephone.’

‘You did?’

‘And again at the funeral.’

He took a step towards her. ‘There’s nobody I can talk to. I’m supposed to be the strong one in the family, the person everyone turns to. I can’t bother my mother, or Pen. Or Gina; she’s in her own world of pain right now. I’ve hurt her and she’s furious. She’s lashing out at me, and I deserve it. I know that. But it doesn’t make it any easier to bear. Some days I want to throw my head back and howl like a wild animal. Just let it all out. Today I wanted to lose control completely. I want to be reckless and to hell with the consequences. Does that sound crazy? Do I sound crazy?’

Tears filled her eyes and she shook her head. ‘I feel like that nearly all the time.’

The empathy she had, that she truly understood, ripped through him. They stared at each other, and then with absolute sureness, they moved at precisely the same moment. They were in each other’s arms, his mouth was on hers and she was kissing him back. It was a mutual need and they gave in to it with an explosion of energy. He wanted her and she wanted him. It was as simple as that. She was unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it from his trousers. Desire surging through him, he started to undo his belt. ‘No,’ she said breathlessly.

Oh God, he thought, she’s changed her mind.

But she hadn’t.

‘Not here,’ she murmured. She pulled him towards the door.

It was half past one, and the lunchtime rush for tea and cake was in full swing. It was even busier than yesterday, and Katie was grateful for Lloyd’s help.

There was still no sign of Stirling, and no response from his mobile. Katie couldn’t lay claim to knowing the man well, but he struck her as being the reliable sort, not the type to let people down at the last minute, especially not Pen, who he was clearly extremely fond of. Lloyd had rung Willow Bank and had got very short shrift. Essentially the reply had been that Gina didn’t give a damn where ‘that man’ was; as far as she was concerned, he could go to hell.

Just as there was a lull in people wanting refreshments, and whilst Lloyd was taking a tray of used crockery up to the house to put in the dishwasher, Katie looked across the garden and saw Tess, Ben and Zac. They were dressed in what presumably they thought was garden-party chic, their inspiration taken from what appeared to be
The Great Gatsby
. Tess was wearing a divine floaty marshmallow-pink silk dress with a pair of cream Mary Janes, and perched on her shoulder was a lacy parasol, which she was twirling playfully with her gloved hands. The boys were both done up as Jay Gatsby, in cream suits, ties, striped shirts, braces and caps. They must have spent hours, if not days, trawling the vintage clothes shops to nail the look. And nail it they had. They looked beautiful. They caught sight of Katie and broke out with waves and smiles and a squeal from Zac. Picking their way through the groups of people, who were all staring, they rushed towards her. Katie felt unaccountably pleased to see them.

Stirling woke up. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and that he wasn’t alone. Simone was asleep, her long naked body curved into his, her hair, loose now, forming a curtain between her back and his chest.

He needed the bathroom, but didn’t want to move and risk waking her. Lying perfectly still, he thought how good it would be to stay here. Nobody knew where he was. Nobody could bother him. He felt he had run away, had escaped to somewhere safe. The thought puzzled him. He’d never needed to feel safe before. Was that because he’d never felt vulnerable before? Did everyone experience that sensation at some time in their lives?

He thought about what he had done. In one single step he’d betrayed his wife – again – and his brother.

Reckless.

Wildly out of control.

Consequences.

He didn’t give a damn. He and Simone had both craved what they had done. It had been mutually beneficial, because while their bodies had been joined with an unstoppable and powerfully physical force, their minds had known a respite of peace. They had been cleansed for brief moments of their grief, their loneliness expunged.

Their lovemaking had not been an act of gentle tenderness; it had been an explosively fierce and fervent coming together. The strength of her need for him had made him feel alive and invincible. She had aroused in him a passion he’d never known before. Good God, he’d done things with her he’d never done before! Almost sixty, but not too old to learn a new trick or two, he thought wryly.

But what now? Would she feel embarrassed at what they’d done? Ashamed even? Would it be better if he slipped away so she wouldn’t have to face the awkwardness? Would that be the behaviour of a gentleman? Or a despicable coward?

‘He’s pure yummy angel cake, darling. I could happily take a bite out of him. And have you noticed his hands and arms? I bet he could crack walnuts with no more than a tap of one of his big manly knuckles.’

Tess flicked her brother on the nose. ‘Back in your playpen, Zac, let the grown-ups talk.’ She turned to Katie. ‘Come on, while Ben and Lloyd are inside ordering the food, ’fess up. What is it you wanted to tell us that you couldn’t when he was around earlier? You’re not still stressing about Stirling being a no-show, are you? We can always suss him out another time.’

Although Katie was disappointed her friends hadn’t been able to meet him, she shook her head. ‘No, it’s nothing to do with Stirling.’ She glanced over her shoulder to check there was no danger of being overheard. They were in Henley, at the Angel on the Bridge, and with its decking area directly overlooking the river, Katie could see why it was such a popular pub. Early evening, and the place was packed, which meant that her friends, still dressed in their garden-party Gatsby gear, had garnered the maximum amount of attention on their arrival – a state of affairs that had pleased Zac, who liked nothing more than a good audience, the more captive the better.

Satisfied that it was safe to talk, Katie faced Tess and Zac across the table. ‘Lloyd isn’t my cousin,’ she said simply.

‘So what is he?’ Tess asked. ‘God, he’s not your brother, is he?’

‘We’re not related. He was adopted. So was his father. There’s no blood tie. None whatsoever. And we’ve—’