Puppies Are For Life (16 page)

But the coffee was scalding hot.

‘I’ll put it down on this table,’ Harvey said, after a glance at her trembling hands. Clearly she was in no fit state to handle dangerous liquids. ‘You’d better come over to the fire.’

Under his guidance Susannah gravitated towards a wood-burning stove set under an unusual old chimney-piece. ‘I’m not cold,’ she said, afraid that his arm was about to go round her. She sat down on the sofa abruptly.

‘Not cold?’ he said, smiling again. He looked her over in a leisurely manner, his eyes twinkling with secretive humour. Then he suddenly broke away, loping across the carpet to the other side of the fire.

‘I was browsing through the “Situations Vacant” before you arrived,’ he told her conversationally. He snorted as he picked up the paper only to throw it aside again. ‘Situation’s hopeless, if you ask me.’

‘Oh dear.’ Susannah sought out a hang-nail she’d recently discovered and began to pick at it. If Harvey had been counting on getting another job soon and was beginning to discover the unlikelihood of this happening, wouldn’t he think twice
before lashing out money on a useless mural?

She crossed one leg over the other and tugged her skirt as low as she could. ‘Harvey –’ speaking his name brought a smidgen of pink to her cheeks –’I want to come straight to the point …’

But it seemed that Harvey didn’t. Far from giving her the silent encouragement she expected he carried on down his own track.

‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘I’ve written forty-five letters already? Cost me a fortune in postage, too; because you don’t stand a chance of a reply unless you enclose a return SAE. And I’ve had practically zilch come back to me. Not a single solitary crumb of an offer. It seems to me – don’t forget your coffee – that –’

‘Harvey, I don’t want to take up your time –’

‘No, no, of course not. I’m sorry, I’m rambling on.’ He got up from the tapestry-upholstered chair in which he’d been stretched. ‘You don’t want to listen to my woes, do you? You’ve obviously got plenty of your own.’ He plumped himself down beside her. ‘I could see
that
the minute I saw you on the doorstep. But I wasn’t going to pry – unless you want to tell me what’s wrong? And what are you doing away from work in the middle of the week, anyway? Don’t tell me you’ve been given the grand order of the boot as well?’

She winced. ‘Er – not exactly. But what I really wanted to ask you –’

‘Shame, because they’d have been doing you a favour if they had. I told you the other day that
you’re wasted there. With your talents … well, you should be using them. Life’s too short for not doing the things you were born to do.’

‘I know!’ Her soul flew out to him. Why didn’t Paul say things like this? ‘Look –’ she covered the painful hang-nail – ‘what my husband told you last night when you phoned … well, it wasn’t right at all. He shouldn’t have said what he did. I’d actually made up my mind to take some leave to do your mural, only –’

‘Your husband had other ideas.’ Harvey raised his eyebrows at her. ‘Bit high-handed of him, wasn’t it?’

‘High-handed isn’t the word. Downright arrogant, presumptuous, outrageous … ugh!’ Anger flared inside her. ‘Well, anyway, I can do your mural if you still want me to. I can start any time you like.’

‘I consider myself very flattered.’ He flashed her a disarming grin.

‘Fl—? But why?’

‘That you should contemplate giving up your leave for me.’

‘Oh. Well …’ She took a peep at the hang-nail. ‘Actually, it’s not going to be quite like that.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I mean –’ she needed to take an extra breath – ‘I’ve just walked out of my job.’

Harvey’s face had begun to take on a wooden appearance, but she barely registered the change; she was too busy rehearsing the tidings that she must later break to Paul. ‘I had a bit of a run-in
with my boss this morning – we didn’t see eye to eye over something – and the interview ended with him giving me the equivalent of “this town ain’t big enough for the both of us”. So –’ she laughed a little too gaily – ‘I’m the one who backed down.’

But her smile soon froze on her lips. Why should Harvey be looking so utterly appalled at her news?

‘Oh!’ Her hand went up to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t think! There you are, desperate to find a job, and here am I jacking mine in. How insensitive can you get?’

‘No, no. It’s not that.’ He waved the suggestion away. ‘It’s just that I feel so terribly responsible.’ He got up and began to pace the room, smoothing the hair at the back of his head as he walked blindly from wall to wall. ‘I’ve been shooting my mouth off, telling you you’re in the wrong sort of job – and you seem to have taken me at my word. God, I feel awful.’

Susannah glanced sideways at him. Had he influenced her? Or would she be in this position in any case? And – horrid thought – had he not really meant what he’d said about doing what she liked best? Had he only been humouring her?

‘I’ve done the wrong thing, haven’t I?’ she said bleakly. ‘I should have kept my nose to the grindstone, stuck to the wretched job. My place is with my family. They still need my support. I’ve been foolish and reckless and stupid. And I should –’

‘For heaven’s sake, Susannah! That’s not what I’m saying at all.’

She jumped to her feet to challenge him. ‘You don’t really want your bathroom wall done, do you? I don’t think you ever did.’

‘But I do!’ He clutched his head. ‘Women! Give me strength! Sit down and listen to me. What kind of man do you take me for?’ he went on in a more normal tone. ‘Of course I want you to do my bathroom. It was my idea, wasn’t it?’

She looked at him for a long time.

‘You’re not just saying you’ll have it done – to boost my flagging morale?’

‘Now why would I do such a thing?’

Why indeed, she wondered, looking into his eyes and trying to ignore the sensation of treading the deepest of waters. Never trust a good-looker, a voice said inside her head.

Harvey suddenly went over to his cup and drained the last of his coffee. ‘I’d better take you upstairs.’

‘W-what?’

‘To take a look at the job,’ he added, grinning at her stricken face.

‘Ah. Yes. Right.’ She followed him up the polished treads, part-fitted with sisal matting.

‘Oh good, I’m glad it’s a white suite,’ she murmured, taking a notebook, businesslike, from her bag. ‘Victorian style, too. I think I can see –’ she screwed up her eyes – ‘something like stained glass for your panel. Perhaps even vaguely religious. What do you think of the idea?’

‘So long as it’s not too pi.’

‘Mmm. Or how about something like those old cave-paintings? Charging bulls – that kind of thing?’

‘I’m imagining a mermaid …’

‘Or a lion with a mane …’ She would have liked more time to consider, but Harvey was standing so close …

‘I have to go,’ she said, heading back down the stairs. ‘I have to go over to Bristol.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ he said. ‘New chapter in your life; new wardrobe. Go and have a lovely splurge.’

‘I didn’t mean to the shops! Heavens, I’ve got far better things to do.’

‘Such as … getting some tiles for my mural?’

‘No, I’ve plenty of those to be going on with. No, I must go and see our young Natalie. She’s my son’s girlfriend, you know. The mother of baby Justin. They’ve got problems, and I promised I’d try to help.’

‘Can’t they sort out their problems on their own?’

She shook her head. ‘If a mother stays away from her own baby for days on end then there’s something seriously wrong. And I’m that baby’s grandmother. I can’t simply stay out of it, can I?’

He made mock tutting sounds. ‘An artist has to be single-minded, you know; devoted to his craft and nothing else. He can’t afford to get side-tracked by other people’s problems.’

‘You’ve hit the nail on the head there,’ she said grimly. ‘Note:
his
craft.’

She flashed him a cynical smile. ‘Ever wondered why there’ve been so few great female artists in the world? Well, I’ll leave that one for you to work out.’

She left him shaking his head and ran outside to her car.

But although she waited half an hour in the car park of the school where Natalie taught, she didn’t spot the girl. Perhaps Natalie stayed at school for lunch; perhaps she’d already gone home. Susannah had no idea, and trying to find someone inside the building who knew where she might be proved impossible. All she could think of was to come back at going-home time and hope to catch up with her then.

So she ended up passing time in the shopping centre after all, and spent an excessive amount of money on two dresses she didn’t need.

Do I have to do everything Harvey Webb tells me?
she demanded angrily of herself as she waited for the clothes to be wrapped. But she couldn’t really lay the blame for these mad impulse purchases at his door. If anyone was to blame it was Paul. Resentment against him had been building up for days, and this was one way of getting back at him.

And so what if she’d lost her job, and hadn’t the money to spend? Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb.

One blue Volvo ought to look like any other, Natalie considered, but this one didn’t. Something about it was distinctive; familiar even. Why?

Maybe, she decided, as she watched it nosing round the school car park in search of a space, it was the arrangement of stickers in the back window that had caught her attention. She had seen them somewhere before. And she was certain, even from her distant position at the staff-room window, that none of them were of a frivolous nature. No. They were the sort that promoted worthy causes: the preservation of historic buildings; the rights of the unborn child; wild life, etc, etc …

Of course! A brief vision had sprung to her mind, a picture of that very car receding into the distance and a group of people waving it away. That was it. She had last seen the car taking Simon’s grandparents off to their new life abroad almost two years ago.

So what was it doing here?

Remembering that she was supposed to be meeting Lara in a few minutes, Natalie drew away
from the window and began to pack her straw shoulder-bag. She could only assume that Jan and Frank had sold the car to someone else. But no, that couldn’t be possible, because they were still out of the country. Unless they had met English people out there and … She ran through a series of possibilities and gave up with a little shrug; the car, and its current owner, were the least of her concerns. She had plenty of other problems queuing up to take their place.

But, casting one last glance out of the window while thrusting the final batch of test papers into her bag, she saw that the vehicle had been backed crookedly between a hedge and a Honda, half in and half out of a space. And Jan – Simon’s gran – was emerging from the driver’s side.

Natalie’s heart beat fast as she slipped down the stairs and jogged across the car park to meet the visitor – not so much from the small exertion involved as from nervous speculation. What could Jan possibly be doing here? What had brought her back to England? Had Frank – heaven forbid it – suddenly died? Or had something worse still happened to someone in the family … to Simon, perhaps, or – or to Justin … and they were all too distraught to come and break the news to her themselves? Oh God, don’t let it be that!

‘Natalie, how lovely!’ Jan stopped the girl’s momentum with outstretched arms. ‘I was wondering how I’d track you down.’ Her eyes swept the sprawling sixties building of drab concrete and
tinted glass. ‘What an enormous school this is. It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack, though I’m sure the secretary would have helped me.’

‘I’m not often in this building,’ Natalie said. ‘You were really lucky to catch me.’ Relief had begun to flow through her; Jan didn’t appear to be a bringer of bad tidings. In fact she looked very well – full of her usual confidence. Her woollen hat, which would have resembled a knitted tea cosy on most women her age, looked stylish on her, and her scarf was draped in a chic arrangement about her shoulders. Smiling and exuding L’Aimant, she held Natalie in her grasp while she studied her.

Jan had always had time for Natalie – they shared the same profession, after all – and had taken an interest in her ever since Simon, in his first decent car, had proudly driven her down to his grandparents’ home in Potter’s Bar to show her off. That was three years ago. The two had hit it off immediately, Jan revelling in reliving school life which she badly missed in her retirement, and Natalie lapping up the older woman’s affection like a half-starved stray.

Natalie’s parents had never been close to her. Her father had been a naval officer and they had travelled the world, leaving Natalie at boarding school in England much of the year. By the time they had completed their last tour of duty and settled down, Natalie had started at training college; and the day after she received her teaching diploma they announced that they were to divorce.
It was as though they had waited until such time as Natalie had the means with which to support herself before making their announcement; though why they thought she would have been adversely affected by the split was beyond her. Feeling that she hardly even knew them, what they did or did not do made no difference to her at all.

‘Dare I hope that you’ve finished for the day?’ Jan was saying as she finally let Natalie go. She nodded at the straw bag. ‘Or are you dashing off again to extra-mural activities?’

An electric bell sounded somewhere in the building, followed by a rumble of imminent evacuation as chairs were scraped back and desks cleared of work.

Natalie chewed at her lip. She drew her coat more tightly round her. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting a friend …’

‘I badly wanted to talk to you,’ Jan urged. ‘It’s really rather important.’

Something in her tone brought Natalie’s fears back. ‘It’s not Simon, is it? Or Justin? They are all right, aren’t they?’

‘They aren’t hurt or in any danger, if that’s what’s bothering you.’ But Jan’s carefully chosen words hung between them; clearly she knew that all was not well in Natalie and Simon’s relationship, and Natalie quickly changed tack.

‘What are you doing here in England?’ she asked. She cast a grim look up at the sky. ‘I thought the whole idea was to escape the British weather,
not to come back for a winter break.’

‘Oh …’ Jan gave a shudder and shook her head. ‘France hasn’t turned out well. I’ll give you a quick run-down on the situation on the way to a rather nice-looking tea shop I noticed out of town.’

Natalie hesitated again, but only for a second. Jan’s coming like this, out of the blue, was not at all convenient, but she could hardly be refused. A reluctant driver – especially of the Volvo because she claimed it was too big for her and was afraid of incurring Frank’s displeasure by scraping its paintwork – Jan had obviously put herself out to make the trip over to Bristol.

So Natalie followed the older woman to her car and silently got in. Lara was bound to be livid, she thought as Jan revved, stalled and flooded the engine. Well, Lara would just have to put up with it.

‘So it was Simon who sent you to see me,’ Natalie said bluntly, sitting back from the corner table at the Little Pantry and folding her arms with an air of disgust.

Jan had just finished explaining how she and Frank came to be living at Upper Heyford in the Hardings’ back garden, so it was pretty obvious that Simon had been bleating to all and sundry about their affairs.

‘Well, yes,’ Jan admitted, flipping up the lid of the stainless steel hot water jug and peering in. She let the lid clatter back in place and topped up the teapot. ‘I’m sure he’d rather not have had to do it,
but he seemed to be at the end of his tether.’ She glanced across at Natalie. ‘So do you, if you don’t mind my saying so.’

Natalie was used to Jan calling a spade a spade. Nevertheless she minded very much, but couldn’t find her tongue to say so.

‘I – er –’ Jan went on – ‘wonder whether you’d like to talk things over with someone? Like me, for instance. I’m a very good listener.’ She smiled. ‘And I also happen to be very fond of you. But I think you know that, don’t you?’

Natalie blinked back sudden tears. This she could do without! The least little thing could start her blubbing these days: sentimental films, beautiful tunes; kind words – as much as harsh ones. She was developing into a proper little cry-baby, and she hated it.

But if Jan noticed her fumbling for a tissue and blowing her nose ostentatiously, as if it was only the cold wind that had got to it, she made no comment; she just took over the conversation for a minute or two while Natalie gulped tea and tried to compose herself.

Jan’s next words, however, were enough to start her off again.

‘You’ve produced a sturdy enough little boy, though. He’s been fairly wearing me out, has Justin.’ She let out a puff of breath to demonstrate her exhaustion. ‘Bringing up a baby must be one of the most difficult things in the world, I think, but of course I never had to do it. I don’t know how
you young women cope these days, what with your careers to consider as well as the child.’

Natalie thought her skin must have been unzipped, so raw and exposed did she suddenly feel. Further concealment of her emotions was useless: she let them all bubble up from the pit of her stomach and spill over in great wracking sobs. Even a tiny wail escaped her, so that an elderly gentleman at the next table turned round and stared in alarm.

‘Oh dear,’ Jan muttered, surprised at what she’d unleashed. She had thought she was on safe ground, beginning the conversation by talking about babies and things. ‘Perhaps it would have been better if we’d gone somewhere more private for our little talk?’

‘No – no – it’s all right.’ With an effort Natalie pulled herself together. ‘I feel a bit better now. Honestly.’

She looked quite ill, however, with a blotched red nose, pink eyes, and her pale face swollen with tears. There were rings of shadow under her eyes too, and her normally thick, glossy fringe showed signs of neglect.

‘When did you last see a doctor?’ Jan asked baldly.

‘A doctor?’ Natalie attempted a laugh that came out wrong. ‘What would I want a doctor for?’

‘Well I don’t know … they have some uses. Did you have your post-natal check-up, for example?’

‘Of course I did. And everything was as it should
be. Nothing wrong at all.’ Natalie regarded the older woman from under her fringe. ‘For someone who’s not had babies of her own you seem to know a lot about it.’

‘Well, I have had quite a few women friends in my time. And I told you I’m a good listener; what I haven’t heard about the baby-making business would fit on a postage stamp.’

She was silent for a moment, stirring her tea to the accompaniment of several other teaspoons around the tea room and the strains of some slow Vivaldi. A bored waitress strolled past brandishing long silver tongs and pushing a cake trolley with a squeaky wheel. She looked at Jan and Natalie but they both shook their heads, though Jan followed the display with her eyes as it rolled on its way.

‘So it’s something else getting you down, is it?’ she asked when the cakes were out of temptation.

‘I never said anything was getting me down, did I?’

‘No, you never
said
…’ Jan was tired of beating about the bush. ‘Natalie, do you mind if I ask you something? Something very personal? It concerns this friend of yours – Lara, I think her name is.’

‘Yes, what about her?’ Natalie watched Jan’s face for clues. What had Simon been saying about her friend? Nothing to the good, that was for sure.

‘I don’t know how to put this.’ Jan bit her lip. ‘My generation isn’t used to talking about this sort of thing. When I was your age I swear I didn’t even know it existed …’

Now Natalie was bewildered; she seemed to have lost the thread. ‘Sorry?’ she said, with a frown.

‘Well,
you
know.’ Jan shifted in her seat. ‘“Sexual orientation” is one of the phrases they trot out. Or perhaps sexual preference.’ She took a breath and came out with it. ‘Is Lara a lesbian, is what I’m trying to get at. And – and –’ but she couldn’t say any more.

And Natalie was too taken aback to speak. She sat clutching her teacup in both hands, the hot china a mild comfort to her as she let Jan’s words sink in. Then she let out a snort that spluttered into a laugh – her first laugh in many weeks, and it threatened to become hysterical.

‘Oh, Jan, you’ve got it all wrong,’ she told her, drying more tears from her eyes, and she forced herself to be serious again. ‘That’s not what Simon’s been thinking, is it? Because he couldn’t be further from the truth. Lara does have a problem with men, it’s true, but only because they ignore her. Secretly I think she’s desperate for a boyfriend, but she – well, she’s not terribly attractive, you see, and on top of that her attitude puts men off; she has strong feminist views. So she pretends she hates all men, and – well, she’s really rather mixed up.’

Jan pressed a hand to her forehead and loosened her scarf a little more. Her hat was making her scalp prickle but if she were to take it off her hair would look a mess. She pressed on with the conversation.

‘I see. At least, I think I do. Lara’s a lonely, awkward soul and you feel sorry for her. Is that it?
But that didn’t mean you had to move in with her and keep her company, did it? Not when you had Simon and the baby to consider?’

Natalie felt her face darken. How could she explain? ‘It all seemed to be for the best. I wasn’t up to scratch at work … I was tired but I couldn’t really sleep … I wasn’t even much good with Justin … And when Simon lost his job Lara said …’ She leaned her elbows on the table, squeezed her eyes tight against more tears and put her hands over both her ears. How had she let Lara convince her that she’d be better off without Simon, and that the baby would be better off with him? Was she out of her mind?

‘It was Lara’s suggestion that I get away from it all,’ she finished lamely, ‘to give myself some space.’

‘Oh yes, of course – space.’ Jan’s mouth twisted on the modern buzz-word. And she didn’t need to hear much more; she could fill in the rest for herself. A fine ‘friend’ Lara was, if she had judged the situation correctly.

It sounded as though, jealous of what Natalie had, Lara had been doing her utmost to rob her of it, and Natalie, rendered vulnerable by probable post-natal depression, was putty in her hands. Gentle probing of Natalie confirmed all this – or most of it.

‘I feel so terribly guilty,’ Natalie cried when everything had been dragged out of her. ‘I’m a terrible dreadful mother; I don’t think I even love
Justin. And I’ve behaved abominably to Simon at a time when he really needs my support. But how can I support
him
when I feel I can’t cope myself? Oh, what am I going to do, Jan?’