A Friend of the Family (4 page)

She hesitated and Cass raised her eyebrows. ‘Very civil of you,' she said. She sat down in the remaining chair and leaned forward to pour herself some coffee. She sent Kate a tiny wink and settled back in her chair. ‘So how are things with you? I was sorry to hear about Mark.'

‘Not too bad,' said Felicity. ‘Life goes on, as we both know. How's Tom?'

‘Fine.' Cass sipped her coffee and Kate felt more than ever that something was going on that she didn't understand.

‘He's at the MOD now, isn't he?'

‘Mmm. That's right. Weekending. He's sharing a flat with Tony Whelan.' Cass chuckled a little and Kate smiled, too. Tony was one of Cass's ex-lovers.

‘I expect there's quite a few of the old gang there at the moment.' Felicity was watching Cass closely. ‘It's the age for it, isn't it?' She named one or two of their mutual submariner friends. ‘And George, of course.'

‘George?' Cass looked surprised. ‘Is George at the MOD? I must get Tom to look out for him. He always enjoys a session with old George.' She made a naughty face. ‘So do I!'

Kate looked at Felicity, waiting for the usual expression of outrage that she could never control when Cass alluded to the fact that George had always had a soft spot for her. Today it was missing. Felicity was still watching Cass, her black eyes narrowed, as if she were waiting for something.

‘Tom hasn't seen him then?'

‘Who? George?' Cass shook her head. ‘I would have known if he had. George always sends his love to me. Anyway, he said he was going to share with Tom and Tony if he got sent to London. They've got a spare bedroom and they need the extra money. The rent is positively terrifying. Has the rotten devil got his own place after all?'

Felicity looked discomfited. ‘Oh,' she began and then got up quickly. ‘Here's Pat,' she said. ‘Must go. See you around.'

They watched her trim figure, clad in tight black trousers and a cerise pink jacket, thread its way over to the far corner where another woman was putting down her belongings. Kate turned to Cass.

‘So what's all that about?'

Cass blew out her lips in an expression of relief and then began to chuckle. ‘Talk about coincidence,' she said. ‘You'll never guess. Not in a million years. Pour me some more coffee, there's a duck, and then I'll tell you all.'

 

Four

 

FOR GEORGE THE SUMMER
seemed endless. He refused Tom and Tony's offer to share their flat on the grounds that he and Thea would prefer to be on their own when she stayed with him in London and, having taken up his post at the MOD and found a little place to rent, he spent every weekend with Thea in Shropshire. He refused to look further than the wedding ceremony. Because it was what he wished to believe, he deluded himself that once he and Thea were firmly married Felicity's teeth would be drawn and he would be out of danger. At some point he would make a clean breast of it all to Thea and she would understand and forgive and he could be happy. He was managing to hold at bay all feelings of guilt regarding his relationship with Felicity. He mainly achieved this by concentrating determinedly on Thea: her youth and simplicity, her happy disposition that looked at life without cynicism or gloom yet had its roots in a balanced acceptance of good and evil. For Thea the words ‘it isn't fair' would never have any point. Life wasn't fair, had never said that it was going to be fair, promised nothing. Accepting this, she would be looking for the good, the happy, the positive; George instinctively recognised this and wanted it for his own. He wanted to hitch his rattly old wagon to this bright particular star and nothing and no one was going to prevent him.

Thea, meanwhile, was busy providing for her father's future. Here luck was on the lovers' side even if it were in the form of a personal tragedy to somebody else. A local widow had lost her only son in a motorcycle accident and was no longer able to support herself properly
without him. Since she was a faithful member of the congregation Thea, after careful consideration and consultation with her father, approached the woman and asked if, in return for a home, she might be prepared to accept the position of housekeeper.

It seemed to be a sensible and even a happy resolution to several problems and Thea was grateful. It is always difficult to enjoy happiness at the expense of those we love and Thea, sensible enough to know that she couldn't stay with her father for ever and that he would not have wished it, felt that she had done all that was possible and could look to her own future with a clear conscience.

George began to receive occasional letters from Felicity, re-addressed from Faslane, and wondered how long it would be before his cover was blown. Slowly, with dragging feet, the summer passed and the day of the wedding drew nearer until one warm September afternoon George cleared his desk, left London and headed for Shropshire.

 

‘SO HE'S MADE IT
.' Kate leaned across Cass's kitchen table for the sugar. ‘I have to say that I'm amazed. I can't believe that no one's spilled the beans.'

‘It's just sheer luck that none of Felicity's cronies are in London. Mind you, only about eight of his friends know. It's the world's best-kept secret.' Cass sat down and Kate pushed the bowl towards her. ‘I'm glad. Thea's perfectly sweet and quite in love with dear old George and he's totally besotted. It would have been too tragic for words if Felicity had managed to break it up.'

‘She's going to find out one day and when she does she's going to come down on them like Genghis Khan and his boys.'

‘Dear Kate.' Cass stirred her coffee and smiled to herself. ‘I always did say that it was you who should have been named Cassandra.'

Kate shrugged. ‘I haven't met Thea yet but do you honestly think that she'll be a match for Felicity? George never was. My God, Cass! Imagine how angry she's going to be when she finds out what he's done. And for once in my life I can't say I blame her. After all those years. It's a bit thick, you've got to admit.'

‘I do admit it. I said so to Tom but at the same time I have a sneaking sympathy for George. It's one hell of a situation. I think he had visions of her tearing Thea limb from limb or putting arsenic in the champagne. I wish you were coming to the wedding.'

‘I hate weddings,' said Kate. ‘All those innocent young things making solemn vows without having a clue what might be going to leap out of the woodwork at them to prevent them from keeping them.'

‘I wouldn't call George an innocent young thing.'

‘Perhaps not. But Thea sounds it. Twenty-three.' Kate shook her head and began to laugh. ‘How on earth did George manage it?'

‘To be honest, I don't think he knows himself. Tom says he goes about in a haze of gratified amazement.'

‘Well, I wish him luck. I'm not saying that he should have married Felicity but I do think he should have had the guts to tell her the truth.'

‘Oh, come on! You know George. He can't stand scenes and confrontations. And he was always scared stiff of Felicity. Oh, Kate! What wouldn't I give to see her face when she finds out!'

They looked at one another and began to laugh.

‘Let's hope that she hasn't already or she'll be lying in wait at the church tomorrow. Perhaps I wish I was coming after all.'

‘I shall tell you all when I get back. And when we've finished our coffee I shall show you my hat.'

 

FELICITY'S SEARCH FOR TRUTH
had been impeded by the deterioration in health and subsequent death of her mother. This elderly if indomitable old lady had been in a nursing home for some years and had finally chosen this moment to breathe her last. Felicity chafed over the lack of consideration exercised by her aged parent and fumed silently about the hours spent at her bedside and in consultation with the doctor and matron. Felicity and her mother had fought and argued all their lives. Like her daughter, Felicity's mother preferred the male of the species, and blamed Felicity for not being the son she had always wanted. After a series of miscarriages she sank
into a tyrannical invalid's existence, expecting Felicity and her father to be at her beck and call, and her disappointment in her daughter increased tenfold when she discovered that Felicity had no intention of supplying her with grandsons. When her husband died, she felt that Felicity should move back and take his place, fetching and carrying for her, and that Mark should commute from wherever he happened to be based if he wished to see his wife. When they made it clear that they intended to do no such thing the relationship deteriorated further and when she and Felicity were together they spent their time arguing and recriminating, a state of affairs that continued until the old lady went into a coma.

Thereafter, Felicity found her mind more often occupied with George's unusual behaviour than with anxiety for her mother's physical or spiritual welfare. If her state of mind could have been summed up as she left the crematorium in Plymouth it would probably be fairly accurate to say that she was thinking, Thank goodness I can get on!

She had received no answers from her letters to George and no joy from his mother, who persisted in the ridiculous fiction that he was engaged in some mysterious exercise and was still incommunicado. By the time she was back on the trail it was rather cold and the truth finally arrived in the form of a letter from George himself, now safely married, telling her that during his sojourn—the whereabouts of which he was not at liberty to disclose—he had met a young woman to whom he had become very attached and who had consented to become his wife.

He realised, he wrote with masterly understatement, that this would come as a great shock to her as, indeed, it had to himself but he hoped that she would not grudge him this chance for happiness and would wish him well.

Anyone knowing Felicity would have regarded this as a very vain hope and far from wishing him anything of the sort she prayed that all the plagues of Egypt—plus a few more of her own invention that were a great deal more fiendish than anything the Almighty had dreamed up—would visit George and his unknown bride. Rage, hurt
and jealousy rose in a huge black tide that positively foamed and lapped at the back of her eyes and for several days she was prey to one of the blinding migraines that had dogged her life. Presently, however, though rage still knotted her stomach, she was able to present an outward show of calm. Her seething brain stilled and grew thoughtful and she made one or two enquiries which were met with a certain measure of success.

One January day she drove across the sodden moor lying dank and dark beneath the swollen, weeping sky and made her way to the Old Station House. The five-bar gate was shut and Felicity, leaving her car outside, opened it and made her way across the tarmac forecourt. She noticed that George's Rover was parked in the garage and that there was no sign of his mother's little hatchback and guessed that her information was correct. She rang the bell and waited. After a few minutes she heard movements within and the door w as opened by a tall girl with vivid colouring and an open smiling countenance.

Confronted by this vision of almost aggressive youthfulness, Felicity was visited by yet another violent stab of unadulterated jealousy.

‘Good morning,' she said, summoning a smile with an almost visible effort. ‘Is Mrs Lampeter in?'

The girl smiled at her. ‘1 am Mrs Lampeter,' she said in a tone which invited congratulation. ‘Can I help vou?'

‘You must be George's new wife,' said Felicity, controlling with difficulty the urge to leap upon Thea and rend her with her bare hands. ‘The Mrs Lampeter I know is rather older.'

‘She's not here, I'm afraid. Will I do?'

‘Oh, yes,' said Felicity softly. ‘I'm sure you'll do very nicely indeed. My name's Felicity Mainwaring. She watched closely for any signs of reaction but Thea's expression remained friendly and enquiring. ‘I'm a friend of the family. I heard that George was married and I came to offer my congratulations to his mother. My own mother has just died and I've been rather out of the swim of things.'

‘I'm so sorry.' Thea looked concerned. ‘Won't you come in?
George's mother has got a little bungalow in Tavistock now. This all got too much for her. I'll give you her address. What a pity that you missed the wedding.'

‘Wasn't it?' said Felicity and hastened to lighten her grim tone as she followed Thea into the house. ‘I'm hoping that you'll tell me all about it. And about George.'

‘I should love to,' said Thea, leading the wav into the kitchen. ‘Perhaps you'd like to see the photographs? I'll make some coffee.'

‘That would be lovely. And I want to hear every little detail. How you met and so on. It must have been so romantic. It's just what I need after these rather sad months with my mother.'

‘You poor thing,' cried Thea sympathetically. ‘I'll put the kettle on and get the photographs and we'll have a good chat. It's sweet of you to be so interested.'

‘I promise you,' said Felicity as Thea disappeared to find the photographs, ‘nobody could be more interested than I am.'

 

AFTER FELICITY HAD GONE
, Thea continued to brood over the photographs. Her father had conducted the ceremony and his closest friend, Thea's godfather, had given her away. She looked affectionately at the smiling faces, at her and George standing beneath the arch of swords with his brother officers very smart in their uniforms. She moved the photographs about reflectively. Felicity, she recollected, had looked rather strange when Thea had asked her if she knew the best man and his wife. Felicity had stared fixedly at the picture of Tom beaming into the camera with Cass looking elegant in a wonderful hat. After a moment she said that she did indeed know them and told Thea that her own husband had been a naval officer and had only recently died of cancer. Thea was shocked, imagining that Felicity's slightly odd behaviour was due to the fact that these pictures must be calling up old and painful memories, but when she tried to sweep them away and talk of other things Felicity had quite firmly insisted on looking at them all. It naturally did not occur to Thea that she was
mentally compiling a hit list of her enemies: those people who had known all about George's defection and had aided and abetted him in it.

Thea put the photographs back in the envelope and glanced round her new home with satisfaction. She was very happy. She had started off in London at the flat with George but she found the city noisy and smelly and the pavements hard beneath feet that were used to springy turf. The rented flat was small and the furniture indifferent and, having toured the usual ‘sights', Thea began to find the days long and boring. By the time they got back to the Old Station House on Friday evenings of the long winter months, they were tired and the house was cold and unwelcoming. It was just getting warm and cosy and feeling like home when they had to pack up again and leave. George had Christmas leave and at the end of two wonderful weeks when the Old Station House was full of warmth and redolent of the smells of delicious food and log fires, they decided that Thea should stay behind when George went back to London. They would try a compromise. George would come down at weekends and Thea would go up midweek, arriving in London on Tuesday afternoons and catching the train back on Wednesdays. It was working quite well although George would have preferred to have his bride waiting for him every evening and Thea wished that they could have settled down together in their new home. Well,
her
new home. It had been George's home for the last twenty years. Thea had been perfectly content to take it over lock, stock and barrel when Esme had departed for her little bungalow, taking with her only a few of her very favourite possessions and delighted that the rest of her belongings would stay in the family to be cherished by Thea. Thea much preferred to take over the well-loved pieces than to start anew, feeling a sense of continuity in caring for things that had been loved and tended by other hands for so many years. So much nicer, she felt, than rushing out to buy new things or even old things whose history was unknown. Here she felt among friends. Esme had taken her round introducing her, as it were, to the companions of her married life and, before that, her childhood:
her mother's old bureau, the Georgian breakfast table that had been Esme's grandmother's, a bow-fronted chest that had graced the bedroom of George's paternal grandmother and lovely old rugs that an uncle had brought back from India. The Rectory was filled with such treasures that would one day belong to Thea; meanwhile she was delighted to become the custodian of these and Esme yielded them to her with confidence and gratitude.