No More Secrets

‘Sensible man. I shall catch up on some reading for Monday’s class instead.’

‘See you for coffee in the morning?’ said Mrs Beaumont.

‘Yes, please. Then I’m going out—bidden to lunch with Cassie Fletcher and her family. The one who writes thrillers.’

‘How splendid for you, dear. You’ll enjoy that.’ Mrs Beaumont smiled. ‘You like books so much it’s a wonder you don’t write a novel yourself.’

Kate was in agreement as she made supper for herself later. The incidents of this week alone would provide her with enough material, not to mention her experiences in Putney in her previous existence.

After mid-morning coffee with her landlady next day Kate went back upstairs to do rather more to her face than usual. Cassie Fletcher, pregnant or not, was one of those long-legged people who wore clothes well. When one was short of inches—vertically, anyway—dressing needed care. Kate, yearning to be ten pounds lighter, finally put on well-polished brown boots, a cream silk shirt, a full, ankle-length skirt in brown needlecord and a long waistcoat in oatmeal mohair. Her hair, thick and straight, and gleaming from its recent shampoo, she caught behind her ears with tortoiseshell barrettes and let the rest hang down her back for once. Five minutes before Ben Fletcher was due she went down to display her sartorial splendour to Mrs Beaumont, glad she was being collected when she saw that the rain was now flattening the shrubs outside in a steady downpour.

‘What a day!’ said Mrs Beaumont, eyeing Kate up and down. ‘And what a transformation. You look lovely, my dear. What have you done to your face?’

‘Gilded the lily a bit,’ said Kate, smiling, then looked up as a horn hooted outside. ‘That’s my lift. See you later, Mrs B.’

Kate shrugged into her raincoat, collected the azalea she’d bought for Cassie and put up her umbrella to race down the path to the Range Rover backed into the cul-de-sac. As she reached it the door was flung open and a hand extended to help her up. Kate put the azalea into it, collapsed her umbrella and leapt up into the front seat unaided. Ben Fletcher put the plant on the back seat, looked at her for a moment, then said, ‘Good afternoon,’ with no trace of his usual smile.

‘Good afternoon. Filthy day,’ said Kate brightly. ‘It’s very good of you to collect me.’

‘Not at all.’ He put the vehicle into gear and nosed it out of the narrow road. ‘It’s not far, but in this weather you’d be drenched long before you got there.’

They continued in silence, Kate finding it impossible to think of anything to say. At this rate, she thought gloomily, the lunch party was likely to be hard work.

‘Did you enjoy yourself last night?’ said her companion abruptly.

Kate frowned. ‘Last night?’

‘Dan told me you were dining with him.’

‘I was, but he’s ill. Flu.’

‘Really? I was away on Friday. I didn’t know.’

‘You work with him?’

‘I work at his father’s firm, yes.’

‘Oh.’

‘You look very different today,’ he commented as they drove past the pump rooms.

‘My Sunday best,’ agreed Kate.

He gave her a sidelong glance. ‘It’s the hair. You look years younger with it down like that.’

Kate eyed him suspiciously, but he went on to discuss the weather.

‘You must regret your move to Pennington when it rains like this.’

So Cassie had mentioned her transfer from London. ‘It rains everywhere.’

He drew up before a tall Georgian house in a row of others of equal elegance in a square on the outskirts of the town. ‘Right. Here we are. I’ll get out first and put your umbrella up, then I’ll come back for the plant. I assume it’s for Cass?’

‘Yes. It’s very kind of her to invite me.’

‘She likes you,’ he said, in a tone which implied he felt rather differently. He leapt lightly from the vehicle, looking so good in a waxed jacket and heavy sweater, his long legs in well-worn cords, that Kate gave a little sigh, wishing he weren’t quite so overpoweringly good-looking. It was hard not to respond to the sheer perfection of his face, especially now, when he was in repose, without the smile which raised her hackles so easily.

Ben Fletcher reached up and put a hand at either side of her waist to lift her down, handed her the umbrella, then reached for the azalea and locked the car. ‘Right, then, Miss Harker, let’s dash.’

They sprinted up the steps to the door, which opened at their approach, and a small boy hurled himself at Ben, who scooped him up, laughing. Kate raised a mental eyebrow. Ben Fletcher was obviously fond of his son.

‘Quiet, you monster. Hello, Caroline; this is Kate Harker.’

A tall, fresh-faced girl shook hands with Kate. ‘I help with Angus,’ she said, with a friendly smile.

‘And with everything else,’ put in Cassie, coming along the beautiful, elegantly furnished hall. She wore a voluminous dress in finest wool the colour of almond blossom, and looked elegant despite the bulge. ‘Welcome, Kate. Come on, everyone, upstairs so we can have a quiet drink before lunch. Mrs Hicks says half an hour.’

Kate handed her the plant. ‘What a lovely house!’ Cassie exclaimed with pleasure over the delicate pink and white striped blossoms. ‘How very sweet of you. I adore azaleas. Angus, have you said hello to Kate?’

‘Hello,’ said the little boy, beaming. ‘I had chickenpox. ’

‘Goodness,’ said Kate with suitable awe. ‘Did you really? How nasty. I bet you itched a lot.’

Angus nodded, deeply pleased, then tugged at Ben’s hand. ‘Come on. I did painting.’

Kate, enveloped in warmth and welcome, felt oddly homesick for a moment. This might be a very impressive house, but it was also very much a home. They went upstairs and delicious scents of cooking wafted towards them on their way along the hall to what was obviously the family sitting room. No formal drawing room, this, like the room glimpsed downstairs, but a place where people read papers and books, watched television and played with Angus, whose toys were strewn all over the floor.

‘Sorry about the obstacle course,’ said Cassie, and went over to a drinks tray. ‘What would you like? We’ve got the usual things, plus some rather delicious white wine.’

‘A glass of that would be perfect,’ said Kate, choosing a corner of a big sofa. ‘What a comfortable room.’

‘And messy,’ chuckled Cassie. ‘I work upstairs on the top floor, and leave this place to the others. Though I’m off work at the moment. Can’t sit at my computer.’

‘I should hope not,’ said Ben, looking up from a complicated structure he was helping Angus make from plastic blocks.

‘Beer, love?’ said Cassie.

‘Yes, but sit down. I’ll get it.’

Ben uncoiled his long legs, then held out a hand to Angus. ‘Come on, champ. Let’s see what Mrs Hicks has made for pudding.’

When the two women were alone Cassie complimented Kate on her appearance.

‘Better than the other day, then,’ said Kate, grinning.

‘Much better. I was rude.’

‘No. I admit I don’t make the best of the basic material much. So today I thought I’d make an effort. How are you and little miss Emily today?’