Caught in the Act (21 page)

Along the back wall of the storeroom were great wicker hampers full of heaven knew what. In the gloom Gareth had led her between them into a hidden space barely bigger than a single bed, lined with a great rolling pleat of black velvet. She had no idea whether he had found it or created it but before she could ask, Gareth pulled her down towards him. Not that she had resisted, or wanted to; not that there had been more than a moment's hesitation. Or was that
the patina of memory making it all such a smooth unbroken line?

Carol shivered. It was so long ago now and yet the memory, the feel, the smell, the touch of him there in the storeroom seemed as vivid as if it had happened the day before. Looking back with adult eyes she didn't think it could have been his first time. He had seemed so very sure of himself, so certain. Carol remembered how she had felt as he unbuttoned her shirt, warm insistent kisses covering her embarrassment and uncertainty, feeling so very naked as he unhooked her bra, and then hearing herself making soft noises of pleasure and delight as his lips moved oh so slowly down over her throat, down over her shoulder, to her breasts. Even now Carol could feel that great rush of pleasure, the heat of desire, as he touched her. God, it had felt so very, very good then; how would it feel now when they both knew what they were doing?

Carol stepped out through the double doors, half expecting to find Gareth waiting there for her and realising that she was disappointed when he wasn't. But there was someone in the hall, someone standing in the shadows by the window, looking out over the moonlit gardens.

‘Jan?' Carol said, not quite able to keep the surprise out of her voice.

The figure turned slowly as if being pulled back into consciousness.

‘What are you doing here? Why aren't you inside with everyone else?' Carol asked, noticing the slight slur in her speech. ‘Are you OK?'

Jan nodded. ‘Yes. Don't mind me, I'm fine. I don't like discos very much.'

Carol snorted. ‘Oh, come on. This isn't just any old disco. It's an historical re-enactment. It's our past being played out with a cast of thousands and a heavy metal soundtrack.'

‘I know,' Jan said.

‘Then come on, come on in. Everyone is in there.' It wasn't strictly true. Gareth still wasn't there and she had no idea where Fiona was but it was close enough.

Jan stood her ground. ‘That's the trouble. No, I'd rather stay out here. I can't bear it. I was thinking of going down to the pub—do you want to come too?'

‘Don't be ridiculous, you can't go down the pub on your own.' Carol looked at Jan more closely. Her face was puffy and her eyes were red from crying. ‘What exactly is going on? I
don't understand, you've been a complete cow all weekend—way more than usual. What is the matter?'

Jan shook her head. ‘I wish I hadn't come. I was going to say I couldn't make it. All these years and it's still there.'

Carol stared at her. ‘I don't understand?
What's
still there?'

Jan sighed. ‘Oh, come on, don't pretend you don't know; it's Adie.'

‘Adie? What about Adie?' Carol stared at her, all manner of pennies finally dropping. Carol felt her mouth fall open. ‘Oh my God, re ally? You fancy Adie, don't you? But he's—he's—'

‘Gay,' Jan said flatly. ‘Yes, I do know, but I didn't know it back then—not when we were at school. It never occurred to me, I was so bloody naïve. I just thought he liked being with us.' She paused, words slowing to a crawl, ‘Crazy, isn't it, when it is so obvious now. I thought that he liked being
with me
. He used to walk me home, come back for tea, take me to the pictures. I think I was probably a role model.' She laughed grimly.

‘You and Adie?'

‘Yes, me and Adie.'

‘You had a crush on him?'

‘No, worse than that, I loved him,' Jan said without a moment's hesitation. ‘And I re ally thought there was a chance he might love me.'

‘You loved him?'

Jan nodded miserably. ‘I've always loved him and the trouble is that I still love him. Twenty years later and he is still the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I think about at night.' She sighed. ‘Crazy, isn't it? You don't have to tell me it's not normal or obsessional. I know, I kept thinking I'd grow out of it, that it would go away. I thought coming here, seeing him again, might cure it—you know, reality slaps bang up against fantasy—but if anything it's worse. I still love him. I waited for years for him to ask me out properly. I kept thinking if I waited long enough he would come round. I kept in touch for ages after we left school. Years. I invited him to my degree show, my first exhibition, and you know what? He came every time, every single bloody sodding time. Every landmark occasion in my life he showed up, the bastard,' she sobbed. ‘We talk all the time!'

‘Oh, Jan, I'm so sorry,' Carol said softly, and put an arm round her shoulder—and as she
did, saw Gareth trotting down the stairs behind them. She didn't know whether to call out or say anything but, as it was, he looked round and saw her, lifting a hand in recognition. He indicated the door to the disco. Carol nodded.

Jan looked up and caught Carol mapping Gareth's progress. ‘Why don't you go back inside? Looks like lover boy's arrived.'

‘It's not important.'

Jan sighed again. ‘Don't be ridiculous, of course it's important. He's your might-have-been, just like Adie was mine. Please go back inside. I want to be on my own. I'm fine, honestly. Go.'

Carol shook her head.

‘I'm serious,' Jan said, far more forcefully this time, at which moment the doors to the hall exploded outwards and a great phalanx of disco dance hounds conga-ed their way out into the main hall led by—as sod's law would have it—Adie and Diana singing ‘Born to Be Wild' at the top of their voices.

‘There you are,' said Diana to Carol, and Adie to Jan simultaneously.

Diana caught hold of Carol's arm. ‘I wondered where you'd got to. I thought you might be busy throwing up somewhere,' she said, a
little unsteadily. ‘Come back in. Dave is now going to do another three-in-a-row Quo medley followed by “Spirit in the Sky” and “Fire”—and after that?' she mimed a hands-up big explosion gesture. ‘The sky's the limit.'

Carol couldn't help laughing; the vicar's wife had gone feral.

Meanwhile, Adie ran over and scooped Jan up in his arms. ‘Come on, come in, honey,' he said, eyes alight with pure joy. ‘What the hell are you doing out here moping around all on your own, anyway? I've missed you. It's not the same without you in there.'

Jan just stood and stared at him, while Carol felt her eyes fill up with tears.

‘Come on,' he said, not taking no for an answer. ‘Come over here and dance with me.'

Carol looked at his expression and then Jan's. It seemed that love was reciprocal, different but real nonetheless. How cruel was that? Carol felt her heart lurch.

Diana beckoned Carol back too. ‘C'mon. I haven't had so much fun for years.'

Carol followed them into the hall. The music hit her in the chest like a rhino charge.

‘Dance?' shouted Gareth as she stepped into the gloom.

She had to wait a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. ‘I thought I might sit this one out. I'm exhausted,' she partly mouthed, partly mimed and partly yelled.

He laughed, fingers closing around hers. ‘Rubbish, it's way too early to be tired,' and led her out onto the dance floor.

It was well after midnight when the smoochy lovers' music started. Carol looked around the room and smiled; lots of people had coupled up—amongst them Jan and Adie, and Netty and the very ginger, very freckly Peter Fleming.

As they danced past each other, Carol pointed at Peter, miming a question. Netty shrugged. ‘Maybe I was wrong after all,' she said, with a lazy smile.

The music slowed to a sensual roll. ‘How about we go and find somewhere a little more private?' said Gareth, as he brushed Carol's neck with kisses. ‘I don't know about you but I keep getting this terrible sense of
déjà vu
.' The warmth of his hand on her back and the insistent pressure of his body against hers was making Carol feel hot in ways too ancient, too old and way too horny to have names.

She closed her eyes, drinking in the closeness of him. Guilt mingled with desire as he pulled
her closer. ‘Time to start over,' he purred. ‘You and me.'

Carol felt her heart flip, and her pulse quicken.

‘I was a fool to ever let you go,' he whispered, and when he led her out of the hall there was nothing Carol wanted more than to go with him. She closed her eyes and let him lead her through the darkness.

Leonora couldn't sleep, even though she was dog-tired. Her eyes ached. Her head was full of thoughts, her brain racing. She had lain awake for hours, got up, tried to read, made tea, fed Maisie and now found herself standing outside Gareth's office, tired right through to the bone. She pushed open the door; the room smelled of him. She took a deep breath and stepped inside. It felt as if she was stepping into the lion's den.

What else was there that she didn't know about Gareth, this man who had shared her life for the last few years? How many other things had he hidden from her? Pulling her dressing gown around her, Leonora sat down at his desk and clicked the mouse on the desk to awaken the sleeping computer. She opened files
randomly, and then more systematically. Most were business—quotes for installations and IT projects, design ideas, templates, invoices, letters to clients. There was nothing there that gave him away, nothing that revealed him. Emails all neatly filed and labelled, nothing much to catch the eye. But there were hundreds of files; he could have hidden anything anywhere.

Frustrated, Leonora started to go through the desk and the filing cabinet, the landscape of which was fresh in her mind. At least the things there were more tangible, although it felt like a lifetime since she had found Diana's phone number. Where did she begin?

‘Accountant', ‘Bank', ‘Cheque Books', her fingers spun back over the manila suspension files as she flicked through the little tabs. Where should she look, and what was it she was looking for? Did she need to go through the whole thing a file at a time, looking for something, some clue that may or may not be there? Or would she be drawn to the things she needed to know by some weird form of divination?

Leonora glanced at the in-tray. It was piled high with all sorts of envelopes, invoices and sheets of paper. Here, maybe, where things were
relatively new; maybe that would be a better place to look.

She sorted through the letters, the circulars, the bills and then stopped dead as she scanned casually down one of the letters. It was from their bank.

Dear Mr and Mrs Howard, We are delighted to inform you that your recent application to remortgage your property has been agreed in principle. If you would like to make arrangements to come into the branch and fill in the remaining paper work…

Leonora felt something cold stirring in her heart. What mortgage? What arrangements? The house was in her name; there was no mortgage against it because it had been bought with money she had inherited as a cash sale. An investment for their future.

Very slowly Leonora flicked through the stapled sheaf of papers. On the back, scribbled on a junk mail flyer for life insurance was her signature—or rather, more precisely, an attempt to copy her signature. Leonora dropped the paper onto the desk as if it was on fire.

It took her a moment or two to consider the implications of what she had found and then she picked up the papers again and read them through more thoroughly.

…In view of the fact that the deeds are in your wife's name we will require her signature to be witnessed on the enclosed documents.

Still stapled to the letter, the loan application hadn't been filled in or signed or witnessed, and obviously hadn't been returned. But did this mean he hadn't borrowed the money? Leonora went back to the computer and clicked on the button that would log her on to the Net. They had Internet banking; she should be able to find out.

It took a moment or two to get on to the website of their bank and as she typed in her password she wondered if maybe Gareth had changed that too—but no—there were their accounts—and no, no loan showed up, but apparently there was no money either, no savings, no ISA, nothing. Every penny in their joint accounts had gone. Leonora stared at the screen. The only good thing was that he hadn't
been able to mortgage the house out from under them, but he had taken everything else.

Leonora felt both sick and oddly reassured. However awful it felt, she knew then that she wasn't making a mistake about Gareth; this wasn't some terrible accident or case of mistaken identity, not some crazy moment of passion—it was cool and deliberate. He had taken the money and run.

Leonora picked up the phone and called Jasmine—even though it was late she didn't think that she would be asleep. Jasmine answered on the second ring.

‘Hello?' said Jasmine brightly. Leonora wondered if she thought perhaps it was Gareth ringing to make it all right after all.

‘I need to ask you something. Did you lend Gareth any money?' she said without any preamble.

There was a slight pause and then Jasmine made a little uncomfortable, caught-out sound and said, ‘Yeah, he said he needed to clear some bills, and that he'd have money coming in as soon as the house was sold.'

‘How much did you give him?' asked Leonora.

‘Three thousand pounds,' said Jasmine. ‘It was the money I'd borrowed for my new car.'

Leonora took a deep breath; she felt dirty. The things Gareth had done to Jasmine made her feel tainted, as if she was a party to it rather than a victim of his. ‘I've just been going through some papers here. He was trying to raise a loan against this house; he was planning to forge my signature.'