Wife After Wife, page 11
“Longfellow. It goes a bit bonkers at the end, but it’s one of my favorites.”
“Are you a fan of poetry?”
“Had it drummed into me at school. But yes. Your Harry was good at it—he wrote it too. Wasn’t half-bad.”
“He can be pretty creative.”
“Would you like to know a secret?”
Katie wondered what on earth this person she hardly knew was about to share. “I don’t know, would I?”
“I had a big crush on your husband at school. I decided I was the only one who understood him.”
“Oh. I see! Well, I had a crush on a girl. Letty Anders. Long golden hair. That’s single-sex schools for you.”
“Indeed,” said Will, and they were quiet again.
A fat raindrop plopped into Katie’s lap, making a dark blot on the silk, and they looked up at the sky just as lightning flashed over to the north, silhouetting the tall Tudor chimneys. There was a distant rumble.
“Looks like our time’s up,” said Will.
They were just getting up to go, Will gallantly offering his arm, when the sound of someone yelling reached them. It seemed to be coming from the maze, which was a short distance away.
“Too funny,” said Will. “Someone’s lost in the maze and there’s going to be a thunderstorm.”
“Surely the maze is out of bounds?” said Katie.
“Wouldn’t you have? When you were a bright young thing?”
“That stage seemed to pass me by.”
The yelling came again. It was a woman’s voice.
“Perhaps we should investigate?” said Katie as more raindrops smacked into the path.
But a maze rescue wasn’t necessary. Cassandra appeared out of its entrance at a run, closely followed by Charles, who was calling to her to stop. Finally, Megan appeared behind them.
“Oh no,” said Katie. “Cassandra!”
“Stop her, Katie!” called Charles. “There’s been a misunderstanding!”
Katie moved to block Cassandra’s path. She didn’t want her friend making an exhibition of herself inside the marquee.
The gravel hurt her feet.
“Katie, be careful,” called Will.
Cassandra ground to a halt and turned on Charles, who had quickly caught up. Behind them, Megan slowed to a walk.
“You BASTARD!” Cassandra shrieked.
“Calm down, Cassandra, for god’s sake,” said Charles. “We were just fooling around in the maze.”
“Fooling around? FOOLING AROUND? You were kissing! BASTARD!” She swayed, and Katie reached out to steady her.
“Cassandra, this isn’t the time or place,” Katie said. “You and Charles can talk when you get home. Which should probably be soon.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” said Megan, catching them up. Her cheeks were pink and her lipstick smudged. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Shut up, slut,” spat Cassandra. “You wheedle your way in here with your stupid non-job so you can steal my fucking HUSBAND . . .” Then suddenly she was launching herself at Megan.
Instinctively, Katie moved to pull her off, but as she grabbed Cassandra around the waist, her friend pushed her away, catching her in the stomach with her elbow.
Pain shot through Katie’s abdomen, and she cried out, doubling over.
Charles hauled Cassandra off Megan, then crouched down at Katie’s side, searching her face. “Katie, are you OK?”
Cassandra’s hands flew to her mouth. “Katie, I’m—”
Charles turned on her, his expression full of disgust. “Fuck off, Cassandra. Just fuck the hell off.”
“No, I’m not all right,” gasped Katie as pain ripped through her stomach. A clap of thunder exploded over the palace, and the rain grew heavier. “I think the baby’s coming, but it’s too early.” Despair washed over her, and she began to cry. “I’m going to lose it again, Charles, aren’t I?”
“No, Katie, you’re going to be all right. We’ll get you straight to hospital, try not to panic.”
He turned to Megan. “Find Harry—be quick.”
Harry
It’s great to meet you properly at last,” said the fair-haired man, pumping Harry’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you from Ana and Megan!”
Harry searched his memory for an ID—jacket sleeves rolled up (why didn’t he just take it off?), Australian surfer hair (no way were those streaks natural).
“Percy North, BWG,” prompted Surfer Boy.
Ah, that would be why Harry’s hackles were raised. This was Ana’s fiancé.
“Of course. Are you enjoying the party?”
“I most certainly am, Harry! The girls have done a great job, haven’t they?”
“Indeed. What’s your role at BWG?”
“Account director. I work on some really happening accounts.”
“Oh, you’re a bag carrier. What do you think of the Rack?”
“Haha! Yes, a bag carrier, for my sins. The Rack looks very cool, I’m sure we’ll be queuing up to book space. I can’t wait to read the Bowie article. Sounds like Terri Robbins-More is one mean interviewer.”
“The best there is.”
“Mean boss, too, though, apparently. Gives Ana a hard time.”
This conversation was going nowhere Harry was interested in.
“I’m sure Ana’s capable of looking after herself. And Terri is impressed with what the designers have been doing, even if she doesn’t constantly dish out the praise.”
“Megan’s done a great job this evening too,” said Percy. “You must be proud of your sister. She’s such a fun person to be around. I love hanging out at the girls’ flat. Though Ana and I will be moving in together as soon as we find a place.”
What was a woman like Ana doing with this sycophantic bore?
Looking over Percy’s shoulder, Harry saw Merry heading toward them. She looked pretty tonight, but there was perhaps too much of the blond bombshell going on. Other women were giving her the side-eye, while men were openly ogling her.
“Hello, boys!” she said.
Of course, she would know Ana’s fiancé.
“Harry, this is—” began Percy.
“He knows who I am, silly. I’m his chosen provider of wine and . . . other things.” She winked at Harry.
What the heck?
She touched Harry’s arm. “Champagne too. Have you tried it?”
“The response has been good, you’ll be glad to hear.”
“Lordy, these shoes are killing me,” said Merry, and she clung to Harry’s arm as she lifted a foot and wiggled it around.
Ana appeared at Percy’s side. “Has anyone seen Megan?” She did a double take at Merry, still clinging to Harry’s arm. “She’s wanted by the caterers.” She frowned slightly at her sister.
“I was just saying what a great job Megan’s done tonight,” said Percy.
“I think I saw her with your friend,” Merry said to Harry. “The guy with glasses.”
“Charles?” said Harry sharply.
“Here she is,” said Ana. “Thank goodness. I couldn’t have covered for her for much longer. Oh, I guess the rain’s finally here.”
Harry followed Ana’s gaze and saw Megan hurrying toward them, her shoes in one hand, her hair wet and sticking to her face. Her expression was panicked. His heart sank. Had something happened between her and Charles?
“Megan? What on earth?” He shook off Merry’s arm impatiently.
“Harry, come quick,” Megan panted. “Ana, I need you to phone for an ambulance. Katie’s gone into labor.”
“Oh, how exciting!” said Percy.
A wave of panic hit Harry. She was only seven months along. He knew nothing about survival rates, but this couldn’t be good.
“Where?” said Harry.
“Follow me.”
Outside, through the pouring rain, Harry saw Katie, supported by Charles on one side and Cassandra on the other.
“An ambulance is coming,” he called.
They stopped walking, as Katie was clearly having a contraction.
“Katie!” Harry said, reaching her.
She let go of Charles’s arm and grabbed his own as she doubled over with a moan. Her wet dress clung to her stomach and legs.
“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Cassandra said, and he saw tears mingling with the raindrops running down her face. “I’m so—”
“Shut the fuck up, Cassandra,” growled Charles. “It’s not about you.”
“Cass,” gasped Katie, straightening up a little. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“The fuck it wasn’t,” said Charles. “If you hadn’t—”
“Stop it, you two. Save it for later,” said Harry.
The rain intensified, the drops slicing like shards of glass across the beams of the palace floodlights. There was a flash of lightning, and thunder crashed overhead. Harry had a momentary fancy that it was a reprimand from the big man upstairs, for not checking on his wife. What had happened to Katie while he was schmoozing VIPs and obsessing over Ana?
As thunder reverberated around the palace, Ana and Merry appeared, hurrying toward them under two big black umbrellas. Merry’s white dress and platinum-blond hair stood out in the gloom.
Ana sheltered Katie as she began to move again, dragging heavily on Harry’s arm. Merry held the other umbrella over Harry, but he waved her away.
“Is she . . .” said Ana.
“The baby’s coming,” Harry said grimly.
“Megan’s waiting for the ambulance at the drop-off point.”
“Harry,” whispered Katie. He bent down to listen. “It’s too soon. Why is God doing this to us?”
“They can do wonders,” he said. “Tinier babies than ours survive. You and the baby are going to be just fine.” But his voice caught, and as Megan and the paramedics appeared on the path, and Katie clung to his hand, a terrible certainty filled his heart.
CHAPTER 17
Harry
November 1992
It was seven thirty, and Harry was still at work. It had been dark for hours, and out of his office window the lights of London were blurred by the fine drizzle falling across the city.
Britain was in the grip of late-autumn gloom. The recession was dragging on, and unemployment was expected to hit three million soon. Harry was about to add to that, with a number of layoffs. Rose Corp. was doing well, bucking the trend, but Colin Hale, his bean counter in chief, was telling him they needed to cut costs, be leaner.
The Queen had just called 1992 her annus horribilis. Since June, Harry’s own annus had been excessively horribilis. Five months after his baby son (they’d called him Max) had been stillborn at twenty-nine weeks, he was still regularly blindsided by grief. The universe could be so cruel.
But at least he had his work—and thoughts of Ana—to distract him.
Harry put down his pen and looked out the window, wondering again what to do about Katie. She seemed unreachable, hadn’t even begun to climb out of the dark place she’d fallen into. The only spark was when she spent time with Maria, reading her books or watching her play with her toys. But she never took her out, other than to and from school, which she’d started in September. Katie constantly fretted over Maria’s health, the sad legacy of her miscarriages and stillbirths. Harry knew he should talk to her about the overprotectiveness. It was turning the child into a drama queen. Maria really did stamp her foot when she didn’t get her own way.
Her brattish behavior was raising eyebrows, and they’d already been contacted by the school about “Maria’s issues around inclusion and space,” which apparently meant not sharing, and demanding the best spot on the mat.
Before, Cassandra had always been there to help Katie out of her despair. She’d cheer her up with a shopping trip or an outing with the children.
But now poor Cass had her own demons to face.
A postmortem established that the baby’s death had nothing to do with the blow to Katie’s abdomen—that had just speeded up the inevitable. A chromosomal abnormality was responsible for a defect that meant the baby wouldn’t have made it to full term, and Katie could have miscarried at any time. But that didn’t stop Cassandra from blaming herself. And Charles hadn’t forgiven her behavior that night, whatever part he may have played in provoking the drunken meltdown.
“Dry out or get out,” he’d said. So Cassandra had checked into the Priory and was attempting to kick the addiction she’d finally admitted to.
Harry and Charles’s friendship was strained, too, and he felt the loss of their easy companionship. Harry was livid that Charles had led Megan on that night. No matter how flighty she was, Charles was the older married man who should have known better. And now Megan imagined herself madly in love with him and had practically cheered when Cassandra was packed off to rehab. Harry was exasperated with them both.
Charles had accused him of hypocrisy. “What gives you the right to judge, with your blond bombshell tucked away in South Ken?”
But that was completely different. He and Merry both knew the boundaries, and nobody would get hurt. Besides, he rarely saw Merry now. He’d found himself making excuses, and when they did get together, he was easily bored, and . . . he admitted to himself that the only way he could lift his performance from mildly aroused to passionate was to visualize Ana’s willowy body, her glossy black hair, her dark, dark eyes.
Merry had her own problems too. Will was increasingly unwell, and was holed up in his Scottish castle.
Things seemed to be going badly for all of them.
Harry began loading his briefcase with reports, his copy of the Times, and his Filofax. At least, in spite of the recession, Rose was continuing to bloom. Circulation figures for the Rack had exceeded expectations. The only downside was that Terri needed no input from him at all. She ran a tight, efficient ship and coaxed increasingly creative triumphs from her staff, in spite of her tyrannical management style.
The art editor had so far been the only one to cave, leaving for a job at Hello! Ana had been promoted to replace her, and Harry dropped by her office to congratulate her.
As Harry had shut Ana’s office door behind him, causing her to frown slightly, he’d had the strongest compulsion to pull her into his arms and tell her the truth—that he was losing sleep over her. That he was a man possessed. That he couldn’t go on like this.
Instead, as he’d met her cool, unsmiling gaze, he’d placed a bottle of champagne on her desk, saying, “A small token of my appreciation. I know you’ve only been with us a short while, but you’ve earned this promotion fair and square. Well done.”
“Thank you.”
“And . . . Ana. We haven’t talked properly since—well, since June. But thank you for your help. Your calmness under pressure, and all that.”
“How is Katie?”
“Not great. Searching for reasons why when there aren’t any. It’s hard to reach her when she’s like this. I’m not sure that I can anymore.”
“That’s very sad. She should probably go back to work, take her mind off things.”
“She has Maria.”
“Isn’t she at school?”
“Yes, she’s just started.”
“Then she should definitely get a job. I’m sure it would help. And commiserations on the loss of your baby. It must have been awful for you too.”
“Thanks. Yes, it was. Again.” He sighed. “I wish death would leave me the fuck alone.”
Anna frowned, and their eyes locked for a moment.
“I hear your friend Cassandra’s in rehab,” she said.
“How did you . . . ?”
“Megan told me.”
“Of course.” His tone of voice must have said it all.
“Don’t be too hard on Megan, Harry. She thinks the world of you, and this rift between you and Charles is really upsetting her.”
“He needs to get his relationship back on track without any distractions.”
“Maybe you don’t realize how Megan feels. It’s not a schoolgirl infatuation anymore. I honestly think she loves him.”
An idea formed in Harry’s head. “Perhaps I should come over and talk to her.”
There was a pause.
“Or take her out for dinner, maybe,” said Ana. “Neutral ground.”
“Home turf might be better, if there are going to be tears.”
So Harry was going over to Megan’s flat tomorrow. He hoped Ana would be there—and he sincerely hoped that preening ponce Percy wouldn’t be.
Ana
There’s The Bodyguard?”
“Not keen, to be honest,” said Percy.
Ana had suggested a movie, to give Harry and Megan some space. “Or we could just go out to eat?”
“I had a big lunch. And I’m a bit knackered. Can’t we stay in?”
The penny dropped. Percy and his team were pitching for the Rose account in two weeks’ time, and Percy somehow thought hanging out in the flat while Harry tackled his sister about her relationship with Charles was going to help with that.
“Don’t mind me,” called Megan from the kitchen. “Ana, it’d actually be good to have you here. Harry respects you.”
Percy lifted his eyebrows at Ana and smiled. “That’s great. I hope Terri knows.”
“I don’t think I’d be much help, Megan,” she replied, ignoring Percy. “You know what I think. You’ve got to give Charles a chance with Cassandra—there are kids involved. If rehab works, they could be all set for a fresh start.”
“But what’s the point? He doesn’t love her anymore. He loves me. He told me.”
“You’ve been seeing him?” said Percy. He looked shocked.
Ana knew what was going on between Megan and Charles. She’d rather not have known, and had told Megan it wasn’t happening in this flat—but she hadn’t shared the news with Percy.
