CATHERINE GEORGE - No More Secrets

‘My son and his wife want me to move into a modern flat, but I like it here. In common with that lilac tree I’m too old to transplant. But I would like some company in the house so I decided to let the upper floor.’ Mrs Beaumont waved Kate upstairs. ‘Look around all you want, my dear. Mrs Gill, my daily, assures me it’s all spick and span up there. Come down when you’re ready and I’ll make some tea.’

Kate thanked her and went off to inspect the upper floor of Waverley Lodge. A bright, airy sitting room, with comfortable, chintz-covered furniture, lots of lamps, bookshelves and small tables, looked out over a quiet square with a lawn and trees softening the view of tall, aristocratic houses on the far side, a view shared by the pleasant double bedroom. A pretty bathroom, plus a small kitchen converted from what must once have been a boxroom, looked out on the small garden of the Lodge.

As she hurried in the direction of Waverley Lodge now it seemed hard to realise it had been her home for less than a month. Kate and Mrs Beaumont had taken to each other on sight. Which, as the old lady had explained, was why Kate was served tea that first day. None of the other applicants had qualified for it.

‘I agree with George—my son—that it’s a shame to leave the rooms empty,’ Mrs Beaumont had said, ‘but I couldn’t share my home with someone I didn’t—well, fancy. And some young people dress very oddly these days.’

Kate, it seemed, had passed the test on sight. And she was glad of it. The rent for the rooms in Waverley Lodge was steeper than she’d hoped, but with care, and some cutting down in other directions, she could manage it. The only drawback was the lack of a separate entrance.

‘I do like to go out at night sometimes,’ Kate had warned. ‘I’m doing a course in business studies two nights a week, and I like the cinema and the theatre. Won’t it disturb you when I come in?’

Mrs Beaumont had assured her that it would not. She would like having someone young about the house. If Kate had any doubts they would give it a month’s trial and see how things went. So far things had gone so well that Kate hated the idea of finding another place. At first she’d been sure she’d miss the untidy flat she’d shared with three other girls in Putney. But to her surprise this wasn’t the case at all. She found she enjoyed her newfound privacy and orderliness more than the previous casual companionship. She could choose what programmes she liked on the radio and television, and read in peace whenever she wanted, which was a vital part of her job, since the fiction section of the store was her own particular responsibility. There was no race for the bathroom, or unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink, and, best of all, no embarrassing little encounters with strange young men on the landing first thing in the morning.

Kate was so lost in thoughts of her former existence, head bowed against the wind, that she cannoned straight into the man emerging from the indoor car park she passed on the way home every night.

‘Sorry!’ she gasped, pushing her hat out of her eyes, then stiffened, pulling away from the hands holding her by the elbows.

‘Miss Harker again, no less,’ drawled Ben Fletcher, releasing her. ‘You don’t suffer from a death-wish, by any chance? Or are you blind without those enormous glasses?’

‘Neither — I’m just in a hurry to get home. I’m afraid I didn’t notice you,’ she said coldly.

His grin surprised her. It was very different from the one he turned on like a light to charm. ‘Which puts me in my place. I’m not very vain, but people usually notice me.’

Wasn’t that the truth, thought Kate, remembering the scene in the coffee-shop, and tried to pass him, but to her annoyance he caught her wrist.

‘Wait. Have we met before today?’ he asked.

‘No.’

‘Then why do I get the feeling you disapprove of me? Do you bear a grudge because I almost ran you over? I thought perhaps you knew me from somewhere, and felt annoyed because I’d forgotten.’

Kate looked pointedly at the fingers on her wrist and Ben Fletcher dropped his hand. ‘You’re mistaken on both counts, Mr Fletcher. I don’t know you.’ And don’t want to, implied her tone so clearly that his eyes narrowed for a moment, then danced in a way which made her long to hit out at him.

‘I hear you loud and clear, Miss Harker. Pity. Cassie liked you very much, incidentally. And just in case you were wondering,’ he added, ‘she suffered no ill effects from the signing.’

‘Good; I’m very glad. Goodnight, Mr Fletcher.’

Ben Fletcher gazed down at her thoughtfully, making it impossible to dash off as Kate wanted.

‘By the way,’ he said casually, ‘how long have you lived in Pennington?’

Kate frowned. ‘Just under a month.’

‘Ah. New kid on the block.’ He raised his hand in salute. ‘Well, can’t hang about enjoying myself like this—got someone to meet. Goodnight.’

Kate nodded coldly and walked off at a furious rate, fairly sure he was watching her go. At last she gave in to temptation and risked a peek over her shoulder. And then wished she hadn’t. Far from watching her out of sight, Ben Fletcher was striding towards the girl waiting outside Hardacres. A girl with hair as bright as his own, who rushed to meet him. Gail again.

Kate turned on her heel, almost running in an effort to put as much space between herself and the happy pair who were obviously about to spend the evening together. Did Cassie Fletcher know what the man was doing while she was putting their son to bed, or cooking dinner, or whatever she was likely to be doing at this time of night?

Kate arrived precipitately at the door of Waverley Lodge, glad to reach her flat without encountering Mrs Beaumont. As she peeled off her wet raincoat and hung it up in the bathroom to dry she felt very out of sorts. The Fletchers were none of her business. Before this morning she’d never met either of them. But, as a firsthand witness to Ben Fletcher’s infidelity, Kate felt horribly responsible in some way. Which was ridiculous. Besides, she was unlikely to meet Cassie Fletcher again. And even if she did Kate knew she’d never tell Cassie her husband was cheating on her. No way was she ever getting involved in anyone else’s affairs again.

CHAPTER TWO

KATE forced herself to say nothing to Gail on the subject of married men. Gail might well misconstrue her motives, put it down to jealousy, and the girl knew Ben Fletcher was married anyway, so it was useless to point out something so obvious. And Gail was so patently moonstruck about him that she’d never believe Kate preferred dark, lean, witty types, whose attraction was a lot more cerebral than the up-front charms of Cassie Fletcher’s husband, damn the man.

How could a clever, mature lady like Cassie be attracted to someone like Ben Fletcher? Kate was haunted by the thought for a day or two, until two evening classes added to a very busy working week tired her out so much that there was no room in her thoughts for anything other than the exam she must pass fairly soon.

‘You work hard,’ observed Mrs Beaumont as they drank coffee together the following Sunday morning.

‘But I love it. One day I’m going to manage one of the big London bookshops,’ Kate confided.

‘Good for you. Life in Pennington must be a bit slow after London.’

‘No. Oddly enough it isn’t. Different, of course, but I find I like life in a shire town—the change of pace is rather welcome.’

‘Good. Oh, by the way, dear,’ said Mrs Beaumont, ‘I’m going away to my sister’s in Bath for a few days tomorrow. Mrs Gill will be in to clean as usual. She keeps a key.’

Mondays were demanding for Kate. After her stint at the shop she hastily ate a sandwich and went straight on to her evening class. By the time she arrived home that night it was oddly dismaying to find the house in darkness. She unlocked the door and ran upstairs to her flat, turning on lamps everywhere, careless for once of the electricity bill. She put cottage cheese, tomatoes and a thin slice of ham on a plate, added a couple of crisp-breads and an apple, and went to curl up on the sofa in the sitting room to eat her frugal meal in front of the television news.