“Oh, hello, I’m meant to be meeting a friend of mine, Marianne Parker, today, only I’ve forgotten what time we said, and I can’t get hold of her. Could you possibly tell me our tee time? Two o’clock? Oh, my, I’ve missed it, haven’t I? I’ll have to catch up with her later. I’m so sorry to have bothered you.” She hung up before he asked her any more.
So Marianne was here. It might be worth waiting a while. Chucking the brochure on the seat, Cherry settled back. After about an hour, she saw a woman, who looked like the woman in the photo, exit the clubhouse. Cherry narrowed her eyes, feeling certain from her build, her brown hair, that she was Marianne. She watched Marianne talk to a female friend she’d come out with; after a couple of minutes, they embraced and went to their separate cars. Marianne got into a BMW, a new convertible in silver. Cherry waited until she drove off and then carefully, cautiously, followed.
Marianne headed back into town, along the A3, and Cherry made sure she stayed at least two cars behind all the way. They crossed the river at Battersea Bridge and then headed northtoward Kensington; the roads got busier and the drivers more erratic, the farther into town they went. Cherry almost lost her a couple of times. When they reached Swiss Cottage, Marianne turned off toward Hampstead into what were residential streets. Audis and Range Rovers jammed up against one another in quiet exclusivity. Then the BMW slowed and pulled into a space outside a three-story, redbrick Victorian terrace home. Cherry stayed back and watched as Marianne locked the car and made her way up the path to the storm porch and into the house. Cherry waited a moment, wondering what to do next, but there was nothing more to see.
She was just starting to pull away when another car came toward her from the opposite direction. Alarmed, she quickly reversed and parked back against the curb. The other driver slid into a space just a little farther up the street, undid the belt, and climbed out. Keeping her head down, Cherry watched as Howard went up the path to Marianne’s house.Howard!She waited for him to ring the bell, but her eyes widened as she saw him take out his own key and let himself in. Cherry stared at the shut door in excitement and let out a little laugh.So that’s what he was up to!And for some time, judging by the years of photos of them together. Cherry thought about the woman she’d just seen. She was a brunette to Laura’s blond complexion, and more sturdy, more ruddy-cheeked. Cherry wondered what it was like knowing your husband’s mistress was not as pretty as you. Must be even more of a punch in the gut. She slipped the car into gear and drove away.
45
Tuesday, October 13
IT WAS TIME FOR AN APOLOGY. TIME TO EAT HUMBLE PIE AND ADMITshe was wrong. She’d been too harsh, too quick to judge. This, Laura admitted, heavyhearted, about her abominable behavior. She waited in some trepidation at the front door, and as she glanced around, she noticed how the nights were drawing in. It was cloudy and the still grayness seemed to blanket everything. A few seconds later, her buzz was answered.
“I’m sorry,” she said anxiously, quickly, as she was feeling brittle and wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hold it together if Isabella was still angry with her. “I completely overreacted and I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
Isabella deliberated a moment; then she opened the door wider and indicated for Laura to come in.
The relief was so great she thought she might burst into tears, but that would be absurd, so she bit the inside of her cheeks to stop herself. She seemed on the verge of tears too often now.
“Drink?” asked Isabella as she led her into the drawing room, where Laura had come for the party just a few days before.
“Yes, please,” and she watched silently as Isabella mixed two gin and tonics. “It was a lovely party,” she started feebly.
“I think we both know that’s not true,” said Izzy, handing her a glass, “at least not for you.”
Laura was chastened. “Sorry. But I did expressly ask younotto set me up with him.”
“I didn’t set you up—he just happened to be at the same dinner party. He and Richard have been doing some work together, and Richard wanted to extend the alliance socially. He was there as Richard’s guest. . . .”
“Oh, God, now I feel even worse. . . .”
“But I admit I did place you next to each other at dinner. Not to set you up,” she said quickly, “but I just thought you might enjoy the company. No, not like that, I don’t mean that you’re . . . lonely or anything, it’s just everyone knows each other inside out. I thought it might be fun for you, someone new.”
Laura ruefully remembered her polite, aloof responses over dinner. “I don’t think it was much fun for him.”
She was half-expecting an admonishment of some kind, but Isabella took a long swallow of her drink, then said: “He’ll get over it.”
There it was again, the dam bursting and relief swamping her, and she started to well up.For God’s sake! This is ridiculous.She blinked quickly, knowing this overreaction to a kindness, a much-needed reconciliation, was all because of Daniel and, to some extent, Howard. She hadn’t had a reply to her letter and was beginning to wonder if she ever would. What if they didn’t speak before Christmas, or Christmas passed them by altogether? What if it went on even longer, for a year, two? Perhaps they’d just bump into each other on the street one day. Nod an acknowledgment to each other. Perhaps so much time would pass, they’d get used to being without each other—but this thought was so unbearably sad, it almost made her stagger, collapse weakly onto the sofa.
“Laura, is everything okay?”
She’d barely heard the question and adjusted her gaze so she was refocusing on her friend.
“You seem a bit . . .”
“What?” Her voice caught.
“Preoccupied. Has something happened?”
Laura tried to smile. “Like what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Honestly, things couldn’t be better.”
Izzy didn’t believe her, she could tell.
“You can talk to me, you know. I’m your friend. Forget this silly little spat.” Izzy squeezed her arm warmly, softened her voice. “You and I, we’ve been through everything.”
