A Class Apart Read online

  Kate grinned and shook her head at Jillian as they parted company. “Don’t you ever want more?”

  “More what?”

  Kate shrugged. “Well, more of him.”

  “I don’t know how big he is yet.”

  Kate burst out laughing. “Serves me right for asking a silly question. Have fun.”

  “Be sure of it, darling,” Jillian smiled, and headed off in the direction of the wine bar where she had arranged to meet the actor.

  Kate was already plotting how she would write about it later.

  As she let herself into the flat the phone was ringing. “Kate? It’s Jenn.”

  “Oh, hi. I’ve just got in. Where are you?”

  “At home, packing. I’ve got to go to Brighton tonight, we’ve got an early call there tomorrow, so I just wanted to let you know I won’t be able to make it this evening.”

  “Oh, pity. Well, don’t worry. What about Ashley? Have you spoken to her?”

  “She’s probably on her way. Today’s the day, you know.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Blanche. She flies in tonight. Ash is in a pretty bad way. I told her not to go back to work, but she insisted. I don’t know how she stands it, seeing him every day like that.”

  “Me neither. I’ll go and crack open a bottle of wine. Give me a ring soon as you get back, OK?”

  “Will do.”

  Ashley arrived ten minutes later.

  “You look terrible,” said Kate.

  “Thanks. I feel it.”

  “Did you see him today?”

  “Of course.”

  “Speak to him?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Good morning, Ashley. How are you?”

  “And what did you say?”

  Ashley smiled. “I said, ‘I’m fine thank you, Mr Arbrey-Nelmes, I hope you are too.”

  “God. And Blanche is arriving tonight?”

  “Yep.”

  “What time?”

  “I don’t know. She’s flying into Gatwick at eight thirty.”

  “Is he going to meet her?”

  “I don’t know. Yes.”

  “He would be, the rat!”

  “He’s not really a rat, you know, Kate.”

  “No, sorry, of course he’s not. He’s just pretending to be.”

  Ashley smiled despite herself. “Well, I haven’t come here to talk about him, God knows I’ve done enough of that lately. What have you got to drink?”

  “How would a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape suit?”

  “Start pouring.”

  Their conversation was stilted; it was all too obvious that Ashley’s mind was elsewhere. But every time Kate tried to broach the subject of Julian, Ashley was firm.

  “Talking about it never mended a broken heart,” she said.

  “But it helps to soothe it,” Kate insisted.

  “And you’ve soothed me enough lately. If I talk about him now, tonight, I think I might go mad.”

  “OK. Then how’s Alex?”

  Ashley’s face softened immediately. “Wonderful. I spoke to him earlier – well, at least I got a quick hello out of him. But Dad was taking him off somewhere so he told me I had to be quick.”

  “You’re so lucky really, you know. Ash.” Kate’s expression was almost wistful as she spoke. “He’s a lovely kid. I hope I have children one of these days.”

  “You will,” said Ashley, “but don’t be in too much of a hurry.”

  “I’m thirty,” Kate pointed out. “I wouldn’t exactly call that a hurry.”

  “No. But you’ve got your career, you’re writing a book, and you have perhaps the best social life of the four of us. You’d have to give all that up if you had children.”

  “But I’d want to give it up. It would be something worth giving it up for.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that.”

  “Besides, I wouldn’t have to give it up. I mean, look at you. You’ve got your career as well. And you don’t do so badly with your social life.”

  “Don’t I?”

  “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  “How often do I do anything at the weekends? When you all go off shooting, or point-to-pointing, or whatever it is you do, I’m never there, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Do you want to be?”

  “Yes. Yes I do. But of course I want to be with Alex too. I can’t expect my parents to cope with him seven days a week. As it is they already have him for five, which is plenty at their age. And what about holidays? Julian wanted to take me away in the summer, but I couldn’t go. Oh I know he said to take Alex too, but it’s not the same having a child around, especially when the child isn’t his. You’ve got your freedom, Kate, you should hang on to it as long as you can. If I hadn’t got married when I was twenty, life would look a whole lot different for me now.”

  “I don’t see how. And you can’t say you don’t have freedom; you have a damn sight more than most mothers.”

  “I know I do. But that’s not to say you will. And although it looks as though I’ve got my freedom, I can promise you, I’m never free of guilt. I know, every night when I go home, that I should be going home to Alex, but I’m selfish and I stay here in London. I wouldn’t change it, but I wish the price weren’t quite so high.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Ashley, the price isn’t high at all. OK, I might have the ball gowns, the GTI and the monthly allowance, but just what does any of it actually mean? Until you split with Julian you really did have everything. What more could you have wanted?”

  “Julian.”

  Kate flushed. “I’m sorry,” she said, “that was tactless. But surely you can see what I’m getting at.”

  The telephone rang and Kate went to pick it up.

  Ashley thought over what Kate had said. They had had conversations like this before, and Ashley knew that in a way Kate resented her. But didn’t she resent Kate too? And Ellamarie and Jenneen. Ellamarie had said that there should be some kind of melting pot for their friendship so that they could help themselves to the bits of one another’s characters they liked best. Jenneen’s answer had been poignant: “But isn’t that why we have each other?” And how many times these last few days had Ashley thanked God that she did have her friends?

  She could see Julian now, waiting at the airport for Blanche. Her heart contracted, and she couldn’t stop herself thinking of the lonely nights she’d spent since they’d parted. And the agony of seeing him every day since. It was torture. A failed marriage, and now a failed love affair.

  “Daddy,” Kate said, as she put the phone down. “Seems I left my diary in the restaurant at lunchtime. He’s coming over.”

  “Well, it’s about time I was on my way,” said Ashley, getting to her feet.

  “Oh no,” Kate cried. “He won’t be staying long.”

  “No honestly, I think it’s time I was going. An early night will do me no harm.”

  “Oh Ash, I feel terrible.”

  “Please don’t,” said Ashley. “I was on the verge of collapsing into a heap of self-pity anyway, think yourself lucky you escaped.”

  Kate smiled. “Well, you know you can always come back if you change your mind.”

  “Thanks,” said Ashley. “But I think I know what I’m going to do.”

  “Oh?”

  Ashley tapped her finger against her nose, and smiled.

  Inside she was aching. She didn’t want to be alone. Not tonight. She knew she couldn’t bear it. There was only one place she could go now. She didn’t know if it was the right thing to do, but she had to talk to someone.

  The taxi drove off into the night leaving Ashley standing outside the restaurant. It was bitterly cold, and she pulled her scarf up round her face to keep out the wind. She was already beginning to wish she hadn’t come. Her stomach felt knotted. Sometimes the pain of losing him was almost too much to bear.

  The door opened and a woman stepped out into the street. She was
laughing, and turned back to look up into the face of the man who followed her. He put his arm round her, and they ran off down the street, eager to be home and away from the cold – together. Ashley watched them until they were out of sight, and thought of Julian. She looked at her watch. The plane was due in about now, and he would be waiting. She thought of his handsome face, expressionless, but smiling if he caught someone looking in his direction. He was like that. Always ready with a smile.

  She sighed. It was partly because of that ready smile that she was here now – outside this restaurant. Their restaurant.

  The rain started again, so she pushed open the door and went inside. There weren’t many people dining, and looking around the room her eyes soon found the person she was looking for. A waiter came to take her coat, but she thanked him and said she didn’t know if she was staying. Her heart was beating hard. Somehow, in a strange sort of way, she felt as though she was meeting Julian. She wondered what he would say if he knew she was here, and why.

  As she approached the old man’s table he was already looking up, his face crinkling into a greeting. He looked towards the door expectantly, then back to her.

  “Hello, my dear,” he said.

  “Hello.” She stood beside the table for a moment, feeling awkward, her hands still in her pockets.

  “Are you alone?”

  She swallowed, “Yes.”

  “Oh, I see,” he said, and she could tell that he did.

  “Would you mind . . .” her voice broke. She cleared her throat. “Would you mind if I sat down?”

  He gestured towards the chair opposite him and signalled to the waiter. “Would you like a drink?”

  She nodded. “A mineral water please.”

  “Make that a large Scotch,” the old man told the waiter, “and my usual.”

  Ashley smiled. Seeing the old man, and sitting in this restaurant, brought all the memories of the times she had sat here with Julian flooding back, as she had known it would. Times they had laughed, precious moments they had shared. It was a mistake to have come here.

  “Miserable weather, don’t you think?” said the old man, looking towards the door as some people came in, shaking the rain from their umbrellas.

  “Awful.”

  “Still, it’s what one expects at this time of year, so I suppose we shouldn’t grumble.”

  Ashley looked at the lines in his face, and wondered what it was like to be him. To be old and able to look back on life. Would he change anything now? His blue eyes were watching her from behind his spectacles, twinkling and knowing.

  “Do you mind if I smoke?” he said, taking out a packet of cigarettes.

  “No, no, please,” she answered.

  “Do you?” he offered her one.

  “No,” she said, taking one and thanking him.

  “Pretty unsociable these days, isn’t it?”

  “Have you ever tried to give it up?” she asked.

  “Not really. For me it’s one of life’s little pleasures. Even more so now that I know I shouldn’t. Makes me feel like a rebel.”

  “Then let’s rebel together,” she said, taking the light he was offering.

  “Are you going to eat?” he asked. “I can recommend the venison. Unless you’re a vegetarian, of course.”

  “No, I’m not a vegetarian.”

  “Good.”

  “Good?”

  “Yes, good. People today seem to have so many principles, I’m sure they don’t realise they’re principlising themselves out of fun. If you can call eating venison fun – which I do.”

  “But surely you don’t mind people’s principles?”

  “Of course not. But I mind fanatics, the ones who try to impose their beliefs on you. According to someone somewhere, almost everything you do is dangerous. You musn’t smoke or drink. Two things that give me great pleasure. Then you mustn’t eat the things you like, or breathe the air around you. In the summer it is dangerous to sunbathe, and in the winter the rain is no longer rain, but little drops of add. I shouldn’t wear the shoes I’m wearing, because they’re made of leather, nor the hat that keeps me warm, because it’s made of fur. Shall I go on?”

  She smiled. “I think I get your point.”

  He sipped his drink, then put it back on the table. His eyes suddenly took on a look that she could only describe as mischievous. “Do you know what I did today?” he said, leaning across the table and looking around to make sure no one else could hear. She shook her head. “Well, today I had tremendous fun. It was very risky, I might tell you, but today I felt brave. To hell with them all, I thought. So, prepared to take the consequences, I lit and smoked a whole cigarette on the Tube. Right down to the very last. And I snarled, and looked mean, and challenged anyone to utter a word. I didn’t care. I like to live dangerously.”

  “Very dangerous,” she agreed. “Did anyone object?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  He stuck out his bottom lip. “The carriage was empty.”

  She burst out laughing, and wanted to hug him. “Do you often take your life into your hands in this way?”

  “Oh yes. Last week I bought a fur hat and walked out of the shop with it on. Sadly no one sprayed me green.” He brightened suddenly. “But there’s still hope, I wear it every day.”

  The waiter arrived, ready to take Ashley’s order. Quickly she picked up the menu and looked it over. But even to think of food made her stomach churn. She put the menu down again. “Nothing for me, thank you,” she said. “But can you bring us two more drinks?”

  “I’m afraid, madam, that it is not permitted not to eat,” the waiter said, picking up the menu and handing it back to her.

  Ashley looked confused. She knew she would be unable to eat anything, but she didn’t want to leave.

  The old man said: “The lady will have venison, George, with a selection of vegetables.”

  “Oh no, no really, I couldn’t eat it,” Ashley cried, looking from one to the other.

  “But you must!” declared the waiter.

  “But I can’t,” said Ashley. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I cannot permit that you don’t eat,” said the waiter.

  “George, I have ordered the lady’s meal, she will have venison with a selection of vegetables.”

  The waiter hurried off. He wanted no further argument.

  “Really, I couldn’t eat a thing,” Ashley protested.

  “No, I dare say you couldn’t,” said the old man, “but I could.”

  “But I thought you’d . . .”

  The old man held up his hand. “I know, I can eat it again. Besides, he might try to make you leave if you don’t order something, and it’s not every day I have a beautiful young woman sitting at my table, even if that beautiful young woman is sad, and wishing perhaps that she was with someone else.”

  Ashley looked at him. His eyes were smiling and she felt a lump rising in her throat. She swallowed hard before she spoke. “I’m sorry. Does it show?”

  “A little.”

  She looked down at her hands, clenched in a ball on the table in front of her.

  “Let me guess. It has something to do with your young man. The one I see you with from time to time, in here.”

  Ashley nodded. “He’s going to marry someone else,” she said, and caught her breath on the surge of feeling that speaking the words aloud brought. “Of course, I always knew he would. He never lied. But I hoped he wouldn’t.”

  “Does he know?”

  “Know what?”

  “How much you love him.”

  Tears were stinging her eyes. “Yes,” she said.

  The waiter brought more drinks.

  “You must think I’m ridiculous, coming here with my heart on my sleeve, torturing myself with memories.”

  “Why ridiculous?”

  “Because I am. I thought that seeing you would . . . well, would . . . I’m pathetic and ridiculous.”

  “There is nothing ridiculous about the
pain you are feeling,” he said. “When your life suddenly loses its purpose, it is confusing, bewildering, and it hurts very much. It can break your heart to lose someone you love, and that is not ridiculous.”

  “But I can’t think about anything else. I go to sleep thinking about him, I wake up thinking about him, and I spend all day talking to him, in my imagination. And I keep wondering why? Why did it have to happen? If God didn’t want us to be together, then why did he let us happen at all?” She gulped at her drink.

  “Would you rather it hadn’t?”

  “No. But I didn’t want it to end. I thought he loved me, you see, I truly believed he loved me. And now I know he didn’t.”

  “Did he ever tell you he did?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “But you knew?”

  “Yes. At least I thought I did. But I was wrong. Oh God, I was wrong. But I believed, just like in all the books you read, the films you see, that it would all work out in the end. I told him how I felt, believing that it would change things. And that is why I am ridiculous. I’ve made a fool of myself. You know, feeling like this is the worst thing in the world.”

  “You may be right. Rejection is never easy to bear. A feeling of unimportance to the person of most importance can tear at your heart like nothing else can. And it brings a feeling of frustration, and anger, and a need to explain to that person that you love them, that vou care for them so much that you cannot exist without them. And each hour that passes only heralds the beginning of just such another, and each day becomes a burden, almost too heavy to carry.” His eyes had a faraway look, and she guessed that he was remembering something from his own past. He pulled himself back to the present and smiled.

  She wanted to reach out and touch his hand, but she was afraid to.

  “I was in love with my wife,” he said, “and I lost her. She died. Five years ago now. At the time I didn’t think it was possible to carry on. Life without her seemed worthless, empty. I hadn’t realised, until she was gone, how very much I did love her. That is one of the saddest things about life, that you don’t realise how much you love someone until they aren’t there any more. And then it is too late. You were wise to tell him how you felt, even though it didn’t change things. If you hadn’t you would always be wondering. But these things usually happen for a reason, and you are young, you have a whole lifetime ahead of you. There will be someone to share it with, and although it may not seem possible, you will love him whoever he is, and don’t be afraid to tell him. You should never be ashamed of the way you feel.”