“Oh, my good God,” exclaimed Wendy, clutching her hand, “is that real?”
“Of course, it is.”
“Are you . . . ?” Wendy’s face lit up, and Cherry grinned and swerved to avoid the ensuing kiss.
“Congratulations!” Wendy clasped a hand over her mouth and her eyes shone with threatened tears of happiness. “To think, my girl, marrying . . . oh, Cherry . . . toDaniel.He’s solovely....Honest, I liked him so much. Oh, it’s like a fairy tale. Like that Catherine and William. I’ll have to go somewhere proper for me dress, Designers at Debenhams or something. . . .”
* * *
As Cherry drove back home, she passed various old haunts that used to bring shame or dread. The restaurant where she’d worked, the school. They were nothing to her anymore. She was a different person, a better person, and they would never be able to threaten her again. As she escaped their stranglehold, she felt a new freedom and it was exhilarating.
She got back just before two, still in a state of bliss. As she walked past the porter, he called out to her, “You on your own, love?”
“Yes. Daniel’s at work.”
Ian stood up from the desk and disappeared into the room behind, calling back over his shoulder. “That’ll explain this, then.”
Cherry wondered idly what it was he’d gone to get, when her eye was suddenly drawn to an envelope tucked into a small cubbyhole, which she knew he reserved for registered mail that he signed for on the residents’ behalf. It was a handwritten letter and it was addressed to Daniel. She was about to ask if he wanted her to take it for him, when she recognized the handwriting. Laura’s. Without thinking, she snatched it up and slipped it into her handbag just as Ian came back through with a large bunch of flowers.
“Unless you have another admirer.”
“They’re beautiful!” She read the card tucked into the foliage. “ ‘To my fiancée, on the first day of our engagement.’ ”
“Yep, ring’s still blinding me,” joked Ian, shielding his eyes from Cherry’s finger.
Back in the flat, Cherry sat down on the lemon sofa and took out the letter. She fingered it for a moment, thinking. It wasprobably a plea, full of pathetic begging—but then again, it might have more poison about herself and she couldn’t afford anything to upset this engagement. She’d already mentioned she wanted a winter wedding and was planning something for January—the sooner, the better, as far as she was concerned. There was still the hurdle of Laura, and despite all Daniel’s protestations that he decided what went on in his life, Cherry was a little worried. Laura would have to keep her interfering nose out—and that included letters to Daniel blackening her name.
She opened it and read quickly:
Daniel,
I’m sorry you don’t feel you can return my calls and I know that’s in part because you don’t want to hear what I keep saying. But I can’t stand back and watch when there’s something very wrong. I also know you love Cherry and it’s hard to hear negative things about the person you love, but all I ask is that you consider what I’ve said. Investigate it. Believe me when I say that I would not exaggerate just to destroy a relationship simply because I didn’t approve. This is a situation much more serious than that. Maybe you could do some simple unobtrusive inquiries. Remember the story about her grandmother who died—the one Cherry told her boss? That’s exactly what they said and yet she didn’t mention anything to us at all. Why not? Was it not true? Or perhaps there’s something else, something about her past that you could find out. Has she ever told you about any of her ex-boyfriends? Who they were? Why it ended?
If you find that there’s nothing in my fear, then you can tell me so and I’ll back off, but please just try. I don’t care what she does to me, as long as you try, and in a way I wish she would do something, just so you could see. It goes without saying that I miss you hugely and I want more than anything for us to be on speaking terms again.
With love,
Mum
Cherry placed the letter on her lap and knew immediately that Daniel mustn’t see it. It would have to get lost, mislaid by Ian.There was a chance he’d mention it to Daniel, might even say it was from Laura; but as Daniel was not talking to her, he’d probably not bother to find out what it had contained. She stood suddenly. Laura didn’t yet know of the engagement, but Cherry knew Daniel would have to tell her. His mum needed to back right off and do what any prospective mother-in-law did when her son got married: recognize her new, diminished place in his life andkeep her mouth shut.Laura needed to know whom she was dealing with and what was best for her. Cherry screwed up the letter and stuffed it in her pocket.
* * *
She waited until Monday, as there was a better chance that Howard would not be at the golf course. Daniel had mentioned which one he was a member of, and as she drove through the gates of the Royal Surrey Golf Club, she saw it was as exclusive as it had looked online. With the car wheels crunching on the gravel, she slowly passed the clubhouse, with its ivy-clad brick, and headed for the car park.
Cherry stopped the car in a quiet corner, where no one else was around, but where she could still see the clubhouse. She got out and started to walk toward the entrance. Pushing open the large double doors, she stepped inside. It smelled of beeswax and money, and the carpet was thick and plush. As she walked along, she noticed wooden boards hung on the walls listing winners of tournaments. She stopped and read their gold lettering, rows of names going back to 1875. Then she saw his name.Mr. Howard Cavendish, 2015 winner of the Winter league.It was paired with aMrs. Marianne Parker.They also won in 2014, 2012, and 2011.Wow, quite a couple.They disappeared for a while, but then she saw them listed again in 1995. It was a long gap and Cherry wondered what had happened; maybe they’d been off form. The most recent winners also had their photograph displayed, and Cherry’s eyes were drawn to one of Howard with Marianne. She studied it, looking for something of interest. He had his arm around her rather broad shoulders and both were smiling at the camera.
“Can I help you?”
A middle-aged man, dressed in a blazer and pale chinos, had stopped beside her.
He was the kind of man who knew everything about his golf club, a man who would have very strong ideas about who should be a member and the etiquette involved. She was glad she’d worn one of the suits from her days at the agency and she gave him a disarming smile. “Are you the club secretary?”
“Yes,” he said expectantly, clearly waiting for her to tell him who she was.
“I was just wondering if you could give me some membership information, a brochure or something?”
His suspicion receded slightly and she was handed a glossy brochure, then had to listen to a sales spiel. After a few smiles and complimentary comments about the course, she managed to escape. She made her way back to the car and sat inside, wondering what to do. Howard spent a lot of time here, she knew, and she wanted to find out why. She opened the brochure and dialed the number printed on the inside cover, disguising her voice.
