A Regimental Affair (38 page)

‘Yeah, well …’

They drove on in silence for a while. Megan slumped in the passenger seat, watched the road and scowled at pedestrians when they drove through towns or villages. Alice kept thinking of things that she felt she ought to say to her daughter, but the mood in the car was so intimidating she refrained. Every now and again she glanced nervously at Megan to see if her mood was improving. It remained steadfastly sullen.

‘You’ll tell me if things are bad at school, won’t you?’ she said eventually as they neared their destination.

‘If you’re so worried about how things are going to be, why on earth are you sending me back?’ snarled Megan.

‘We’ve been through all this,’ said Alice.

And indeed they had. The day before when Alice had been packing Megan’s kit for her departure they had had a huge row on the subject. Megan’s point had been that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate while she was at school with so much to worry about.

‘There’s no point in me being there if I’m not going to learn anything,’ she had said.

‘So what will you do if you stay here? And how long will this go on for? We’ve no idea if the whole incident is going to be over in days, or weeks, or months. If you’re here you’ll just mope around. You’ll have nothing to take your mind off things.’

‘What, like having the school bitches have digs at me? Getting taunted about having a father who sleeps around? And then having to lie and say he didn’t, when we all know he did.’

‘That’s not true.’

Megan had stared defiantly at her mother until Alice dropped her gaze.

‘Don’t exaggerate,’ Alice had said as calmly as she could, although she had come very close to slapping Megan. ‘A brief affair does not constitute “sleeping around”.’

‘Huh. If you ask me, if he’s done it once, he’ll do it again.’

That had been too much for Alice. Before Megan could duck, Alice’s hand had flashed out and smacked her sharply across her cheek. Silence followed the crack of the blow. Then, dry-eyed, Megan had turned on her heel and walked out of the bedroom.

Once she had gone Alice felt quite drained by the violence of her anger. She sat down on the edge of Megan’s bed. She heard her daughter descend the stairs, walk across the tiled floor of the hall and then the front door was opened and shut. Alice was worried that Megan might be about to do something rash. Heaven knew, with everything that had gone on in the family recently, it wouldn’t be a surprise if she did something wild like run away. Tiredly, Alice got up, went across the landing into her own bedroom and crossed the floor to the window. From behind the curtain, she watched Megan walk to Sarah’s house. Alice felt a surge of relief. She had gone to talk to her new friend, Jen. Well, that was all right then. She was glad Megan liked Jen. She seemed such a sensible girl; very down-to-earth like her mother, despite her unfortunate taste in clothes and music. Alice had returned to the packing, silently praying that Jen would make Megan see sense – that she would be better off at school, where she could slip into the routine of lessons and have her mind occupied by things other than her problems at home.

When Megan returned some while later, Alice didn’t ask about her visit to Jen’s. It was enough for Alice that Megan had made no comment about the two cases sitting in the hall, ready to be loaded into the car. The matter had been closed. And now Alice certainly didn’t want it brought up again just as they were arriving at the school.

As they pulled up in front of the main door on the wide, sweeping gravel drive, there were several other cars already there. Alice noticed the covert glances in their direction, the nudges and the
sotto voce
comments made between parents and between other children.
Only to be expected
, she thought with a suppressed sigh. She and Megan manhandled the cases out of the boot and into the cavernous hall of the school. They were dumped in the growing pile of luggage to await the school groundsmen who would transport them to the girls’ rooms later.

‘So,’ said Alice brightly. ‘Do you want me to stay for tea or would you rather I went?’

‘You can go if you like.’

‘That’s not what I asked. I asked what you would like me to do.’

‘If you go, I can go up to my room.’

Alice understood her reasoning. Megan would be required to play host to her mother if she stayed for tea and perhaps it was too much to expect. ‘Right, darling. I’ll see you in a few weeks. Ring me at any time if you need to talk.’

‘Yeah, OK, Mother.’

Alice leant forward and kissed her quickly on the cheek. ‘I’ll be off then.’ She turned and went back to the car, her heart sinking at the prospect of a two-hour drive and then a return to an empty house. She was used to it, it had happened before, as there had been a number of occasions when Megan and Bob had both been away at the same time. But this time it was different; not only was she without her daughter and her husband but this time events had cast her adrift from the regiment. This time she had lost her position too, and without that she had lost much of her
raison d’être
.

Alice was locking up her car when Sarah waylaid her.

‘You must have been looking out for me,’ said Alice, attempting a lightness of tone that she certainly didn’t feel.

‘I was, actually. I’m having some wives round to coffee tomorrow, now the kids have gone back. I’d like you to come too.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ said Alice firmly.

‘Please come,’ said Sarah. ‘You can’t shut yourself away. There’s …’ She paused. ‘… there’s.a lot of sympathy for you on the patch.’

‘I don’t want pity,’ said Alice.

‘I didn’t say
pity
, I said sympathy. There’s a deal of difference. We all know how tough it’s been on you this last week and, well, we want you to know that we’re behind you.’

Alice looked puzzled. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Look, there’s probably not much any of us can do to make things better for you. You must be going through hell, but we care.’ Alice still didn’t look convinced. ‘Honestly, we do. And if you come along tomorrow you’ll see it for yourself.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Alice, weakening. She had certainly felt very lonely since the dreadful news had been broken to her, but she couldn’t believe that the wives cared much. She was nobody’s fool. She knew that she wasn’t popular; that the wives viewed an invitation to dinner at her house as a chore, not an evening out; that she was considered odd because she didn’t drink and insisted on ‘standards’; that she was old-fashioned because she thought wives should concentrate their attentions on their husbands’ careers and doing good work within the regiment, and not on earning money.

‘Please,’ insisted Sarah.

‘Maybe just for a few minutes,’ said Alice. It wasn’t as if she had anything better to do, apart from some housework.

‘Good,’ said Sarah with a warmth that surprised Alice. ‘About elevenish?’

‘Fine.’

Sarah watched Alice go into her house and then walked along the pavement to Debbie’s front door and rang the bell.

‘Come in, come in,’ said Debbie, glad of the company of an adult after a day of toddler talk.

‘Alice has agreed to come to coffee tomorrow.’

‘That’s good. It’ll do her good to get out and find how much support there is for her.’

‘That’s what I told her.’

‘You’ll never guess who phoned me yesterday,’ said Debbie.

‘Who?’

‘Ginny.’

‘No! What did she want?’

‘Sympathy I think. Not that she got it from me.’

‘But I thought you were friends with her.’

‘I know. I was … am. I don’t know. I was horrid to her and now I feel dreadful. I mean, when she told me about her affair she said Bob had done all the running and I believed her. But now …’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to believe. And if she hadn’t told Taz – well, none of this mess would have happened. You’ve got to admit, a lot of it is her fault.’

‘The person I really blame is Taz, not Ginny. She was quite calculating about what she did. She wormed her way into our friendship, took what she wanted and then left all the mess behind. If you want my advice,’ said Sarah, ‘it’s Taz you want to vent your spleen on, not Ginny. She’s got enough to contend with without getting grief from us too.’

‘Now I feel even worse,’ said Debbie. ‘I wonder if she’ll ever forgive me?’

Chapter Twenty-Five

At nine that night Ginny wandered into Hugh Town and made her way along the main street to Chris’s hotel. It was on the sea front, overlooking the harbour and the pier where the
Scillonian
docked. Ginny glanced up at the name on the notice above the door giving detail of the licensee. ‘Christopher Tregaskis’ it said. ‘Licensed to sell …’
Tregaskis
, she thought. That sounded like a good local name, but that, and the fact that he owned the place, was about all she knew about him. She’d decided against asking Netta about him. She had been afraid that Netta would misconstrue her reasons and make some mean comment. She felt battered enough by recent events without dishing out yet more ammunition to be used against her.

She pushed at the front door and entered the hall. Opposite her was a small reception desk. On her left was a neat notice board with details about various activities on the islands – outings to Tresco and Bryher, trips out to sea to look for dolphins, the helicopter timetable, details of flights to Newquay and Exeter and other bits of information likely to appeal to tourists. On her right was a large mirror, obviously positioned to give the small hall a feeling of greater space. By the desk was a vast pedestal flower arrangement, mostly, and unsurprisingly, consisting of daffodils, and then there was an elegant flight of curved stairs leading to the upper floors. In the air there was a pleasant smell of furniture polish mingled with the scent of the flowers.

Ginny walked to the desk and pinged the bell. A small, neat woman with curly brown hair and a label on her lapel announcing her to be Mrs Carole Tregaskis appeared from a back office.
She looks really nice
, thought Ginny.
Chris is a lucky man
.

She switched on a smile. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘My name is Ginny Turner and I’m staying with Netta and Petroc Pengelly.’

‘Hello, there,’ said Carole. ‘Chris told me you were on the island. Of course, I can see you’re Netta’s sister. You’re so very like her. Chris said you would be coming down this evening for a drink. He’s in the office. Would you like to go through or do you want to wait for him in the bar?’

‘I’ll go through to the office, if that’s all right?’ Ginny didn’t particularly fancy propping up a bar on her own and, being out of season, she didn’t think there would be anyone else to keep her company.

‘Of course. If you go through this door here and follow the corridor to the end, you can’t miss it.’

Ginny followed the directions and found herself outside the centre of operations for the hotel. Chris was sitting at a desk covered with mounds of paper. Ginny had never seen a more chaotic office in her life.

‘Hi,’ he said as she entered. ‘Take a seat. I won’t be long.’

Ginny looked around for a chair and located one eventually, hidden under a stack of box files. She moved them on to the floor and sat down.

Carole appeared at the office door. ‘The kids have just phoned. I need to get home. The dog has cut its paw and is bleeding all over the house. He won’t let them examine it.’

‘Go then. If blood gets all over the carpets it’ll be a pain to get it out.’

Carole nodded in agreement and left.

Ginny was surprised. She would have thought that they would have lived over the shop. ‘Don’t you live here?’ she asked.

‘What?’ He wasn’t really listening.

‘Do you live here, at the hotel?’ She rephrased the question to make it clearer.

‘We have a room upstairs for whoever is duty manager. But otherwise, no.’ He sounded impatient. Obviously he didn’t want to have small talk interrupting his work. He continued his frantic tapping at the calculator, stopping every now and again to write down the figures and then shuffle through some papers on his desk before resuming the tapping once more.

‘VAT return,’ he said. ‘Hate the things.’

‘They’re not so bad to do,’ said Ginny.

‘What do you know about them?’

‘I understand accounts, if that’s what you mean,’ she answered.

Chris looked up at her. ‘You do? But I thought you are in the army?’

‘I am, but that doesn’t mean that I have no qualifications. Admin is what I do; it’s what I specialise in. I spend my life doing accounts and paperwork and stuff like that.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. Don’t sound so amazed. I’m rather good at it, actually.’ Which she knew to be a total understatement but she could hardly say she was one of the best in her field.

Chris carried on with his figures for a few minutes until with a groan he muttered under his breath that the bloody thing didn’t add up. Ginny was tempted to ask if there was something she could do but restrained herself. She instinctively knew that no man wanted to be shown how to do something by a woman. However, she did wonder when she was going to get the promised drink. At this rate, it would be too late. Chris put down his pen and passed his hand wearily over his face.

‘Enough of paperwork,’ he said standing up and grabbing at a pile of files as they threatened to slide off the desk. ‘Let’s go and get a drink. And I want you to tell me about yourself.’

He led the way out of the office and along the corridor back to the main bit of the hotel.
En route
they passed Carole, who now had her coat on and her handbag slung over her shoulder.

‘I thought you were off home,’ he said.

‘Got caught by another phone call and I could hardly tell a future guest to shut up.’

‘No,’ said Chris. He remembered his manners. ‘Have you two met?’

‘We did the introductions when Ginny got here,’ said Carole.

‘Oh good,’ said Chris. Carole moved towards the front door. ‘I hope the dog is not too bad,’ he added.

Carole nodded and disappeared.

Ginny thought that Carole seemed remarkably relaxed about her husband going to have a drink with a strange woman, especially one who had just been splashed across a national tabloid for having an affair with someone else’s husband. Still, though, perhaps that just proved that some couples trusted each other implicitly.
No matter
, Ginny thought.
I’m not about to make the same mistake twice
. Chris was safe from her attentions if Carole was at all worried. In fact, any married man was as safe as houses as far as attentions from Ginny were concerned.