Living a Lie (30 page)

“It’s hard… like him.” Her fingers dropped to the zip on his trousers.

When she tried to undo it, he clamped his hand over hers.

“No!” It was just a word, one quiet word, but it was enough to inflame her.

“What the hell’s wrong with you!” Snatching away, she eyed him with hostility.

“You haven’t got another woman, have you?”

His smile infuriated her further.

“Talk sense, Susan,” he chided.

“When would I get the time?” Again his mind was filled with the warmth of Kitty. For her he would make all the time in the world.

She didn’t like his answer.

“Are you saying you would have another woman, if you’d got the time?” A nicker of fear crossed her pretty face.

Stretching to his full height, he groaned.

“At any rate, I thought you wanted to spend Christmas in style?”

“I do! It’s all booked, isn’t it?” Anger flared.

“You told me the hotel was booked. It is, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“Are you packed?”

“Not yet.”

“What in God’s name have you been doing all day?” She hadn’t been cleaning the house, that was painfully obvious. There was a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, a basket filled with dirty clothes beside the washing-machine, cigarette ash all over the fireside rug, and several magazines littered across the armchair.

Turning on the charm she answered, “I’ve been to the hairdresser’s, had my nails manicured, done a bit of shopping.” Rolling her eyes she moaned, “You wouldn’t believe how much they charge for a facial!”

Twirling round on the spot she invited, “It’s worth it though, don’t you think? Wouldn’t you say I look beautiful?”

He regarded her for a moment. Certainly she was a very attractive woman, tall and slim, very feminine, her long brown hair swept up in a mass of curls. He suddenly felt guilty. Whenever he looked at Susan he couldn’t help but compare her with Kitty. He was doing that now, substituting every feature, every movement, seeing Kitty’s small petite figure, her rich dark hair and expressive eyes that glowed with the colours of autumn leaves. Punishing himself again.

Always punishing himself.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, running his hand along her arm.

“You’d best get packed if we’re to be in Manchester before dinner.”

She clung to him then, not knowing exactly why he had apologised. Not knowing he looked at her and saw the woman he would always love.

“It’s me who should be saying sorry,” she admitted grudgingly.

“It can’t be nice to come home to a tip, and no meal after a hard day’s work, but you see I’ve been out all day. When I got back I was dog tired.”

“No matter. We can have a meal at the hotel.”

“I’ve arranged for the cleaner to come in while we’re away,” she said placatingly. Stroking the contours of his face with her fingers, she looked up at him, at the strong classic lines of his features, at his wonderful dark tumbling hair and brooding eyes. He was her man. She had wasted her time at college while he had made good. Harry Jenkins had been a difficult man to snare. She’d be a fool to let him go.

“While you’re packing, I’ll check the yard … make certain everything’s secure.”

Once outside, he made straight for the Tautliner; a magnificent juggernaut, painted in blue and cream like the others. It had been his very first wagon, bought with a hefty bank-loan against a contract he’d secured and money he’d earned and saved. He’d found he had a natural instinct for business. Young as he was, he might have gone out and enjoyed himself, frittered away his years. Instead, he’d put his head down and worked like a bloody slave, rarely going out, hardly mixing, just work,

work, work. Then, and afterwards, driven by one single ambition: so that when Kitty contacted him, he would have a good life to offer her.

Instead, it was Susan who was enjoying the fruits of his endeavours;

Susan who wore his ring on her finger; Susan who was there when Kitty was not. She had been his saviour in the beginning. In the end she was his punishment.

He sat behind the steering wheel, huge and round, cold and hard to the touch, not very pleasing to the eye, yet capable of maneuvering the long snaking monster behind, guiding it through meandering roads, up hill and down dale, as though it was light as a feather when in fact it weighed upwards of thirty-eight tonnes.

“You’ve done me proud,” he murmured, gripping the wheel and surveying the dashboard these days the controls of an HGV resembled the inside of a cockpit.

“I shan’t part with you in a hurry,” he promised. He had a soft spot for this vehicle. In the early days it had been his constant companion, a loyal trusted friend. Now it had a new driver, one Harry had chosen for his character rather than his skill; though that was every bit as important when handling a sizeable beast such as this.

After locking the lorry, he checked the others, then the goods bay and the yard in general. Everything was secure. Finally he checked the tall gates, shaking the heavy padlock and thrusting home the bolts.

The snow had gone, but the wind was cutting.

“Roll on the spring,” he muttered, pushing his way back to the house. The thought of seeing Kitty again would keep him going until then.

Susan was ready. Dressed in long white boots and a cream fur-lined coat, she could have been a model.

“I sup Josephine Lcuc pose you’d rather stay at home than spend Christmas in a hotel,” she sneered as they left the house.

“You’re right, I would,” he admitted. Stowing the suitcases in the boot, he shut the lid and got into the car beside her.

“Instead of making a journey to a strange hotel on a dark freezing night like this, I’d much rather spend Christmas at home, yes, with a tree and trimmings, and a log fire burning in the grate.” And Kitty curled up beside me, he wished. God! How he regretted letting her turn him away.

But then, what choice did he have? No man had the right to force himself on a woman if she didn’t want him.

Now Kitty was lost to him. Now it was too late. He had made his bed with Susan and would have to lie on it. After only a few weeks of marriage he had come to realise he had made the biggest mistake of his life in marrying the student he had met on a train, once, a lifetime ago. That student had been pretty, bright and wonderful company. This wife was greedy, petulant, wanting only glamour, travel and parties, while he wanted a family, a proper home life And Kitty. When she turned him away he really believed it would be just a matter of time before she contacted him; before his mother would pass on a message from her. But there was none. No letter to say how much she longed to see him again. After a time he came to see she had shut him out of her life forever. When he was at his lowest, Susan was there, sweet, enticing, a bright happy distraction, helping him pass the time, helping him through, but never helping him to forget. He could never forget. Now he was invited to Kitty’s eighteenth birthday party, and his soul was torn in so many ways. Eighteen!

Was it as long ago as that? Though he was still a young man, he felt very very old. Without Kitty, the light had gone out of his life.

“God! There you go again… off in a world of your own. It’s like talking to a bloody zombie.” Susan’s shrill voice pierced the air, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry. I was just thinking.” It seemed he was always apologising to her these days. Guilt, he supposed. Guilt and a desperate need to be alone with his thoughts.

Not an easy woman to pacify, Susan shrieked at him, pounding her fist on the dashboard with every word.

“You’re always thinking! Or working, or wishing for something you can never have!”

For one awful minute he suspected she might have read his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

“Wishing for something I can never have?”

“I don’t know what I mean exactly.” Calmer now, she racked her brains.

“It’s just that sometimes you seem to be miles away … or wishing you were.”

“You’re very perceptive,” he answered.

“I won’t deny there are times when I’d like to be miles away.” At least he could be honest about that.

She didn’t care too much for that answer.

“You never told me that.”

“I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Do you wish you were miles away from… me?”

“Sometimes.” He smiled, but it was a mirthless expression.

“Bastard!”

“So you keep telling me.”

“I don’t mean to be spiteful. It’s just that there’s nothing much for me to do. You know I get bored easily.”

“Get a job. Help me in the office if you like.” He knew what her answer would be though, and he was right.

“Why should I?” She was sulking now.

“Why should I work like a skivvy?

We don’t need the money. “

He spun the wheel to turn the corner of the High Street, his attention momentarily taken up with the road and the increased volume of traffic.

“Nobody’s asking you to work like a skivvy,” he told her.

“And you’re right. We don’t need the money.”

“Then why the hell are you asking me to work?”

He sighed. Susan could be the most difficult woman on God’s earth.

“You just said you were easily bored… ” Nothing much for me to do”, that’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean I want to work!” She spat out the word as though it was bitter on her tongue.

“I wouldn’t mind sitting at your desk … answering the phone for you.”

“I’ll get you a desk of your own, if you like. Matter of fact, it might not be a bad idea.”

“It’s a terrible idea.” Would she never learn to keep her mouth shut?

“You’ll want me typing next, breaking my fingernails, and after it’s cost a small fortune to get them perfect.” In the half-light she lifted her hands to admire them.

“Perhaps I can do something less strenuous? Yes, I’ll think about it.”

Glancing at her, he had to smile. She was nothing like he’d thought she might be.

Having said more than enough she remained silent for the rest of the journey, dozing in her seat, turning fretfully and swearing beneath her breath when a stray dog made him slam on his brakes, sliding her forward in the seat.

When they drew up outside the hotel she sat up, cooing with admiration.

“There! I told you it was a perfect place to spend Christmas,” she declared. Clambering out of the car, she hurried towards the foyer, cursing like a trooper when the heel of her boot caught in a grating but smiling sweetly when a tall white-haired gentleman rushed forward to release it.

“No harm done,” he said with a wink. She blushed and walked on, glancing back, to see if her elderly admirer was still looking: smiling broadly when she saw that he was.

Busy getting the cases out of the boot, Harry had seen the whole thing. He shook his head and smiled. There was no one like Susan for putting on a show when she had a mind to.

It took only a few minutes to register.

“We have a wonderful Christmas programme planned,” said the desk clerk.

“Right now I’ll settle for a good hot meal.” Not having eaten for the better part of the day, Harry’s stomach was rumbling.

“Whenever you’re ready, sir. Dinner is being served now, up until nine-thirty. We have a comprehensive menu… car very if you prefer, or a la carte. We try to cater for everyone.”

“I’m sure you do,” Harry replied.

“I’ll ring for a porter, sir,” He still had his hand on the bell when Harry took the cases, and his wife, and got into the lift.

“A man used to looking after himself,” the clerk muttered.

“You want me?” The porter came out of nowhere, a tiny fellow with thin hair and huge feet.

“No.” The clerk had never taken to this new porter.

“You rang the bell. There ain’t nobody here,” Glancing round, he saw the foyer was empty, the dining room full.

“So what do you want?”

The clerk leaned over his desk. In a stiff polite voice he said, “I want you to piss off!”

The porter shrugged his shoulders.

“Fair enough,” he said.

“I’ll piss off then.” And as he went he put two fingers behind him infuriating the clerk by making a very distinctive V-sign.

When, half an hour later. Harry and his wife entered the dining room, all eyes filled with admiration. Wearing tailored grey trousers and a fitted black jacket Harry attracted the women with his dark dashing looks. Susan knew she looked good in the new green silk blouse and straight cream skirt that showed off her legs to perfection.

“Charming couple,” said one man to his wife; she didn’t answer, her lustful eyes following Harry’s every move. Two young waitresses stood in the far corner.

“Now he could do whatever he liked to me any time he liked,” crooned the older one. The younger one giggled and sighed, and wondered if she would ever have a husband as handsome as that.

An hour later they left the dining room and made their way upstairs.

Susan wouldn’t let it be.

“You promised we’d go abroad in the spring, end of March you said. Now you’ve been invited to this bloody party, it won’t spoil our plans, will it?”

“No reason why it should. Anyway, the holiday’s already booked and partly paid for. I haven’t got money to throw away.”

“What if I don’t want to go?”

“What… on holiday?” He knew what she was getting at, but didn’t feel in the mood for her petty little games.

“The party! What if I don’t want to go? I won’t know anyone from Adam.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” He knew she would. He knew her love for parties.

“Do you want me to come?” Again, that sense of insecurity that had first attracted him to her.

He felt like a louse.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Of course I want you to come.”

“This Kitty Marsh. Who is she, Harry?”

He was in the bathroom when the question was put. He lingered there for as long as it took him to compose his face. Coming into the bedroom, he said, “A girl I grew up with.” A girl I saw blossom from child to woman, he thought. A girl I fell in love with. A girl I would have been proud to call my wife.