Other People's Husbands (31 page)

‘Did he say anything?' she asked, feeling mildly sick.

‘He did.'

Conrad's face wasn't giving anything away. Sara hardly dared breathe. Was this going to be the end? She hadn't exactly been thoroughly unfaithful . . . and yet she sort of had, in the smaller ways Conrad would consider truly disloyal. He pulled up in their home driveway and looked at her.

‘You are a pain, Sara. You've scuppered all my plans.' He sounded sad, defeated.

‘What? What plans?'

‘My plans not to get to my seventieth birthday.'

‘You weren't really serious, were you? About that? Once you said you weren't ill, I thought you were just . . . oh I don't know,
attention-seeking
or something. Just being . . . you!' She felt a massive, terrible dread. He
had
been serious. She realized that now. He'd planned to leave her. She'd been diddling about having a minor fancy for someone and he'd been planning a forever exit. Which of them was the more disloyal here?

‘Whether I was serious or not doesn't matter any more. I can't go now, can I? How could I leave you to be preyed on by twats like that Ben bloke? I had him sussed the second I found out he was a fucking journalist. He's been stringing you along. As you discovered.'

‘Yes, well. I've been a complete idiot.' Sara wondered how many times she'd said this today.

‘We can all be idiots, Sara. I think I've been more than a bit of one lately, as well. Shall we call it quits?'

‘It's almost like a classic English seaside scene from the fifties, isn't it? Apart from lack of small children and hand-knitted swimsuits, that is,' Lizzie said to Sara as she unpacked bottles, a Thermos flask and a heap of food boxes from the picnic basket. She found a corkscrew and a pack of plastic glasses and set about organizing drinks for everyone.

‘It is,' Sara agreed, ‘except that in the fifties I don't think the English much went in for barbecues.'

They were the only people on the beach, probably because the up-and-down clifftop walk to get to it was quite a challenge for the average lazy holidaymaker, especially on a hot day such as this. Lizzie's two older sons, plus Jasper, Goth Tilly, and a couple of their friends, were already in the sea. As the sun blazed down, Sara considered the possibility of swimming. Before or after lunch, she wondered, or both? Pandora and Cass were lying on beach mats, smothered in suntan lotion but determinedly soaking up the rays. Charlie was asleep in a little beach tent that Lizzie had thoughtfully picked up while shopping for the picnic. Xavier and Paul were poking sticks at the barbecue along with Lizzie's husband Jack, doing that thing that men with fire always did of finding it impossible to trust sausages to cook by themselves without their interference.

‘It's only simple stuff,' Lizzie said. ‘I mean, when you said you were all coming down to have a quick barbecue for Conrad's birthday, I didn't exactly have much time to rush out and do a massive supermarket run. I could have come up with something a bit more impressive for just you and Conrad but you don't travel light, people-wise, do you?'

‘I know – sorry. It was all very last-minute. Conrad and I, well it was just something we came up with yesterday morning. By lunchtime we were booked into the best B & B I could find, in the cars and on the way here. Sorry!'

‘Hey, never apologize for spontaneity, babe. You're talking to the woman who hitched a hundred-yard ride in Jimi Hendrix's limo and stayed in it for well over a hundred miles.'

‘I was a mere infant then!' Sara told her. ‘I had no idea that I had such a wild sister. At that age, I thought wild meant rabbits and foxes and stuff.'

‘In some ways it still does.' Lizzie giggled lewdly. She looked closely at her sister. ‘You look happy. Last time I saw you, you'd gone funny. I was worried about you.'

‘
You
were worried? I was worried too. Looking back, I think I was even more demented than I thought Conrad was being. Maybe it's a stage we all go through. You should know, you've been through it enough times.'

‘Not any more. I think I'm all wilded out, if that makes sense.'

‘Yeah, yeah. Till the next time.'

Sara watched the younger boys – they were climbing up high rocks, then leaping into the surf. ‘Tombstoning' Jasper had said it was called, though he said that usually involved the highest cliffs round the coast. It looked incredibly dangerous. They had to get the timing right or the swell would be too low and they would hit the lethal rocks beneath the sea's surface. ‘How mad would you have to be to do that?' Sara said, looking at the line-up of boys, waiting for their moment. And that was when she spotted Conrad, next to jump.

Oh, it would have been perfect, Conrad thought as he climbed the cliff. No accidental clumsy gunshot, no hideous concrete pillars, no falling off a station platform having put a foot wrong in the rush hour. Just the bliss of open sky and the perfect turquoise Cornish sea below. He could see the rocks, as the swell rose and fell. They'd be something to paint . . . and better yet, something to show Charlie. He'd love the rock pools around the beach; so much better than seeing it all behind glass in the Aquarium. He'd be able to paddle and touch and catch the little creatures in a tiny net, then put them back. He could watch the anemones and the starfish and marvel at the minuscule transparent prawns that whizzed about. Real experience, not second-hand.

He climbed the last bit of rock and sat down, feeling frazzled by the sun. Was it that the day was very hot, or was it being seventy that was hot? It was hard to know. He'd have to keep watch for differences now. But then, earlier when he'd told Jasper that he felt older, the boy had said, ‘Why? It's only a day more than yesterday.' As if it just didn't matter at all. Very wise, Jasper.

Conrad stood at the top of the rock now, waiting for the right moment. He could choose, standing here. It was the perfect opportunity. The sea ebbed and flowed, surf foaming up, leaving slick traces on the rocks as it receded. Then back again. He looked across to where Sara was and jumped.

*

Sara screamed. She knew what Conrad was doing . . . or was he? The scene on the beach would be forever in her mind. She knew where everyone was, exactly how they were poised, like a tableau. Lizzie's arm was round her, holding her firm, stopping her from rushing into the sea. Everyone was looking at where Conrad had jumped. Nothing showed in the water. The boys waiting their turn on the rocks hung back, afraid to go now. You didn't jump till it was clear. That was the rule.

It must have been a minute, maybe longer. Sara, if asked, would claim she'd held her breath for longer than humanly possible. Then all was activity, suddenly. Paul and Xavier ran down the beach and dived into the water. Jasper and one of his brothers jumped together from the high rock. But . . . closer to the shore than Sara had imagined would be possible, Conrad emerged from the sea. She raced down the sand to him.

‘Conrad . . . How could you!'

‘Wow, that was great! Can't wait to do it again.'

‘No, please don't,' Lizzie said firmly. ‘You frightened the life out of us all.'

He put his arm round Sara and handed her a stone. It was a blue-grey one with a white line round it, embedded in. ‘You don't need to worry,' he told her. ‘This stone. See the ring round it? That's about returning. Wherever I go, now I've given you this stone, it means I'll always come back to you.'

‘In that case, I'd better give one to you as well,' Sara said.

‘No need,' he told her. ‘I already know.'

THE END

Judy Astley has been writing novels since 1990, following several years as a dressmaker, illustrator, painter and parent. She has two grown-up daughters and lives happily with her husband in London and Cornwall.

For more information on Judy Astley and her books, see her website at
www.judyastley.com

JUST FOR THE SUMMER

PLEASANT VICES

SEVEN FOR A SECRET

MUDDY WATERS

EVERY GOOD GIRL

THE RIGHT THING

EXCESS BAGGAGE

NO PLACE FOR A MAN

UNCHAINED MELANIE

AWAY FROM IT ALL

SIZE MATTERS

ALL INCLUSIVE

BLOWING IT

LAYING THE GHOST

 

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First published in Great Britain in 2008
by Bantam Press, an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Black Swan edition published 2009

Copyright © Judy Astley 2008

Judy Astley has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Version 1.0, Epub ISBN: 9781407034034
A BLACK SWAN BOOK: 9780552774642

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