It's Raining Men Part 4

'I don't want to.'

She watched him gulp hard.

'I see.'

'I love you but I'd never forgive myself if I didn't give my job everything I had. I have to. And, let's face it, your work is your priority too.'

'You're my priority,' he said firmly.

'No, I'm not,' replied Clare. 'I can't remember the last time we had a conversation for longer than five minutes without your phone coming between us.' Lud opened up his mouth to answer and Clare held up her hand to stop him. 'You don't have to apologize or explain, Lud. I know how it is. This is your golden moment and you must take it and this is my golden moment and I must take it. You can go to Dubai this evening as a free man. And concentrate on your job without the distraction of me.'

'There is more to my life than work, Clare,' he said, shock evident in his voice that she could think otherwise.

'Is there?' she replied. 'I don't feel there is any more.' She didn't say that she felt ever-so-slightly bored too. She didn't say that she heard girls in the office talking about saucy encounters and wishing she had some to report of her own. She could let him go kindly without grinding his face into the dirt.

'It's okay,' he said, reaching over and closing his warm hand over hers. 'I understand. It's you who needs to focus on your job without the distraction of me.'

Clare sighed guiltily. This was horrible. She sounded like a right hard cow.

The waiter arrived at their side to take their order.

'Do you want to eat?' asked Lud. Clare's lowered head moved slowly from side to side.

'Just the champagne,' Lud told the waiter. 'If you could bring me the bill, thank you.'

'I'm sorry,' said Clare.

'Don't be,' replied Lud. 'You've worked hard. You deserve your moment in the spotlight. I know how important it is to you.'

And he did. Over the years Lud had witnessed the many achievements of Toby and Alice Salter eclipsing everything that Clare did. How could he deny her the fifteen minutes of family fame?

The waiter brought over the bill. Lud gave it a cursory glance and then replaced it on the plate with some notes from his wallet.

'I hope you're really happy in Dubai,' said Clare, fighting back the emotion that had lodged like a hard lump in her gullet. 'I hope you find what you're looking for.'

'I had found it,' he said. 'Can I get you a taxi back to work?'

'No, I'll sit here for a bit and then take the Tube.'

Lud leaned over her and kissed her head, his hand curving tenderly around her arm.

'Goodbye,' he said. 'It's been fun.'

'I hope we can still stay friends,' said Clare, almost desperately, not wanting to let go now that she had separated them, but feeling that she had pushed him too far away to reach for again.

He nodded gallantly, like an old-fashioned soldier, then she watched his broad back cut through the crowd of cafe customers until it had disappeared totally from sight. As she followed him with her eyes, she did not realize that in his pocket lay the Tiffany engagement ring which he was going to present to her over lunch.

Finished, gone, just like that. All those years of togetherness ended with just a few words. Now she was free to concentrate on being the family superstar for the first time in her life. The Salter runt who was clever but never managed the genius heights of her smart-a.r.s.e siblings had finally managed to outshine their achievements. And Ludwig could go and conquer the world and find himself a woman that he would ignore his phone for. The thought that he might sent the tears tumbling down her cheeks and onto the pristine white tablecloth.

Chapter 12.

May's meeting in Clapham at nine that morning was with a man trying to set up a wholefood restaurant. She arrived at half-past eight to find Mr Terry waiting for her, an enthusiastic smile plastered all over his face. She reckoned he would be onto a winner too. He was so keen to get started, the property was ideal, the plans he had to renovate it were simple, cheap but effective ones, and his menu looked fantastic. She envied his pa.s.sion for his work and his self-employed status, answering to no one but himself. May loved her job; she just hated all the rubbish that came with it: namely reporting to a man who didn't seem to have a clue what he was doing. He had all the management skills of a dead squirrel. Thank G.o.d he escaped to a golf course as often as he did and left everyone to get on with it.

May had allowed the full morning for the meeting but was done and dusted by just after half-past ten. She didn't want to get back to the office too early so took herself off to a cafe near the park. The waitress brought over a frothy cappuccino and a millionaire's shortbread which, disappointingly, had a very unb.u.t.tery base and not enough chocolate topping. As she was staring out of the window, May's eyes zoomed in on the building opposite, a grand old house almost hidden behind a high brick wall and tall trees. There was a sign at the side of the gate which she could just make out: The Pines. Her heart started to thump faster. Was it The Pines, the one in which Susan Hammerton resided? It had to be. Michael had said it was in the Clapham area and surely there couldn't be two establishments around here with the same name.

She drank the last of her coffee and wondered if this was a sign that she should do what she had intended to do for ages now: volunteer some money towards Susan's care. There must be luxuries that weren't on the basic bill that would make her life easier. She had broached the subject with Michael but he waved it away, too proud to accept. He didn't need to know, though she was sure that she and The Pines could have a secret arrangement.

May crossed the road and walked down the path that led to the front door of the magnificent Georgian building with a large and established front garden. It must be costing poor Michael a fortune, thought May.

The reception area had large, square, black and white floor tiles and as May walked over them towards the main desk, she felt as if she were a piece on a chessboard.

'Morning, my love. Can I help you?' asked a white-uniformed woman manning the desk. She had a thick and friendly West Country accent and a welcoming smile.

May opened her mouth but didn't really know how to start. So she plunged in.

'h.e.l.lo, I wonder if I could speak to someone about one of your residents.'

'Well, would you give me a few more details, please?'

'I'd like to see if there is anything I could contribute to make her stay here a little easier?'

'I'll get the matron for you,' said the receptionist. 'Would you take a seat over there for a few minutes? There's a coffee machine if you'd like a drink.'

'Thank you.' May took a seat and waited, though she didn't use the machine as she was all coffee-ed out. Anyway, she wouldn't have had enough time as the woman returned almost immediately with someone who was just like a matron from a Carry On film flat shoes, wide girth, short curly hair under a white starched cap, and oozing efficiency.

'h.e.l.lo, there,' she boomed. 'I'm Marian Plaistow, Matron of The Pines. Would you like to come into my office?'

'Certainly.' May followed her through the door to the left of reception and took a seat at the other side of Matron's neat and tidy desk in her large, square and very sunlit office.

Matron settled her bulk into her big leather chair, threaded her fingers together and asked, 'So how can we help you?'

'I hope I've got the right place,' began May. 'It's about Susan Hammerton.'

'Ah, yes. Susan. Are you a relative?'

No, I'm s.h.a.gging her husband.

May settled for: 'A friend of the family. I understand that she is unlikely to improve.'

Matron gave a slight nod, clearly used to not divulging any confidential information.

'I wondered if there was anything she might need that isn't standard issue. Any medicines or treatments that might make things easier for her, luxuries, anything at all?'

Matron shook her head slowly from side to side.

'Not really,' she said. 'I can't think of anything we could do that we aren't already doing. She is a very old lady. We can only make her comfortable.'

May shrugged her shoulders. 'Ah, I just thought I'd ask. No worr-'

Then her brain caught up with her ears. Crikey if thirty-five was very old, what the heck was eighty?

'Very old? You said "very old".'

'That's right.'

'She's thirty-five.'

Matron looked confused. 'I think we might not be talking about the same . . .'

'Susan Hammerton?' Surely there couldn't be two Susan Hammertons living in two The Pines in the area? May felt a tightness in her throat as if cold bony fingers were closing around it. She lifted up her handbag from the floor and foraged inside it for the pa.s.sport-sized picture of Michael that she kept in her purse. When she found it, she handed it over the desk for Matron to take from her.

'This is her husband. He's thirty-four.'

Matron looked at the photograph, back at May and then back at the photo.

'I'm sorry, but this isn't Mrs Hammerton's husband. She's a widow in her nineties.'

The grip squeezed tighter. May felt her head grow light with confusion as thoughts zapped madly around it, trying to work out what was going on.

'This man comes here to visit her,' said May. 'Michael Hammerton.'

'Ye-es, that's him,' said Matron. 'But he . . .' She answered slowly and carefully. 'He's a relative of Mrs Hammerton. Not her husband, though.'

'I don't understand.'

Matron handed back the photograph. She had an inkling of what might be happening in front of her eyes she was a woman, after all. She leaned over the desk and said in a low voice, 'I shouldn't be saying this, but that man is Mrs Hammerton's great-nephew Michael. He doesn't visit that often. But when he does,' she coughed, embarra.s.sed, 'I believe he usually comes with someone. A blonde.'

'A woman?' asked May, the grip so tight now that she could barely get out her words. It was a ridiculous question. Of course it had to be a blonde woman.

Matron nodded.

'His own age? Thereabouts?'

Again a nod.

'Could it be his sister? He has a sister?' May tried not to sound as hysterical as she felt.

Matron shook her head this time. 'I don't think the woman is his sister.'

May wanted to ask why. What were they doing to make you think it wasn't his sister? What have you seen? Her imagination was going bonkers. Were they snogging, holding hands, bonking over the reception desk?

Matron's face was creased sympathetically. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I don't think I can help you.'

May sniffed and wiped at the escaping tears with the edge of her index fingers. 'No, don't worry. It's not your fault. Thank you.'

'Would you like me to get you a cup of tea?' asked Matron kindly, pushing over the box of tissues which she kept at her side of the desk.

'I'll just go,' replied May. 'Please don't say I was here.'

Matron pushed back her chair so that she could stand and show her out but, by the time she was on her feet, May was striding down the chequered hallway and running back to the Tube station.

Questions began to stockpile in May's head as she waited for the train but there was no one to give her any answers. I don't think the woman is his sister. What did that mean? Of course she knew what it meant; the tone of Matron's voice implied an intimacy that brother and sister wouldn't have. May wanted to double-back to The Pines and interrogate Matron further, but she would come across as a deranged nutter. She felt a nutter as well. She felt as if she were standing in the middle of a world where all the safe walls around her and the ground beneath her were crumbling and falling. It hurt.

Chapter 13.

At two o'clock Lara received a call from Clare. 'h.e.l.looooo there,' came Clare's trill down the phone. 'Are you all packed, then, missus?'

'Not yet,' replied Lara, s.n.a.t.c.hing a look at the clock. She would have to make this a quick call because she had a meeting in ten minutes and needed to get a sandwich as she had sugar-shakes. 'But it won't take me long. I'm only taking the three ball-gowns.'

'No worries, you can always borrow one of mine if you run short,' chuckled Clare. 'I can't believe we are actually going, can you? I can't remember the last time I had a holiday.'

I can't believe I left the booking so late and risked there being no rooms left, Lara didn't say.

'Are you still intent on driving, Lars?'

'Yes, I'm fine driving. The place is a bit off the beaten track so at least if I drive we can go directly there instead of faffing about with taxis when we get off the train at Whitby.'

'It's a long way, Lars. I feel guilty.'

'Don't. I'll drink a lot of coffee. Plus I like driving at night. I find it relaxing.'

'I hate driving at night,' said Clare. 'I hate driving full stop, to be honest.'

'Well there you go then. We'll both be happy if I take the wheel.'

Clare needed to get away to a fresh s.p.a.ce so much. She hadn't had a holiday with girlfriends since she was in her early twenties over ten years ago. She didn't even know where those friends were now. Careers and husbands and babies had had too much of a divisive effect on their lives. Some uncomplicated female company was just what she needed and a glorious pool, lots of fluffy white bathrobes and air heavy with aromatherapy scents.

'How will you manage to tear yourself away from your handsome James for ten days?' asked Clare. 'And the children.'

Lara almost laughed. She had let her friends think that she had the perfect life in Dorking in that gorgeous big house. When she had shown them pictures of James, they had wolf-whistled. So this was the man who had whisked her off her feet and into his home like a whirlwind, they had grinned. Lara had also showed them photos of her 'step-children' and she hadn't put them right when they cooed and said how lucky she was to have such a sweet-looking ready-made family. They presumed the children loved her and she loved them and all was hunky-dory in her world. And because Lara wanted it to be that way and was sure that it would be, because she was pulling out all the stops to make it be like that, she had smiled and nodded and agreed that she was very lucky indeed. The lie just got too big to own up to.

'Well, I'll be all the better for a battery recharge,' said Lara. 'The children are staying with their mum for the week anyway.'

Clare tried not to think too much about children she couldn't have the career which had been carved out for her and be a mother as well.

'I am so looking forward to this holiday. It's well overdue,' said Clare. She needed someone to reach into her head and ma.s.sage everything away so it was just a big empty sh.e.l.l with no thoughts of work or family or Ludwig.