Caught in the Act

Carol hesitated, unsure whether she ought to stay with Diana. After all, hadn’t she made some kind of rash promise to pitch in? Also Carol wasn’t sure she could stand up to too much close questioning about her motives when it came to seeing Gareth again.

‘Go,’ said Diana, waving Carol away before she could offer to stay behind. ‘This lot will need someone to ride shot gun on them.’

Carol picked up her handbag. ‘If you’re sure…’

‘I’m sure,’ Diana said. ‘Go.’

‘Oh, by the way, is Fiona coming?’ asked Netty as she got to the door.

There was a fraction of a second’s pause. Fiona Templeton, the girl for whom the phrase ‘drama queen’ could well have been invented.

Diana nodded. ‘Yes, well, at least she said she would be here.’

‘I can’t imagine that Fiona would miss it,’ said Netty. ‘Any chance for a little limelight and adoration.’

‘Just as long as she doesn’t bring her mother,’ laughed Adrian.

‘That’s not funny. That old stoat used to make my life hell. Lights out, fags out, boys out. God, the woman was such a pain in the arse,’ snapped Netty. ‘Her and her precious little kitten.’ She mimicked Fiona’s mother with spiteful accuracy for someone whom she hadn’t seen for years.

‘Oh, come on, Fiona has done well for herself,’ said Diana pleasantly.

‘What do you mean well?’ said Jan. ‘First road kill in Casualty?’

‘I saw her in an ad on telly for Boots last Christmas,’ said Netty.

‘Third bunny on the Emmerdale Easter special,’ laughed Carol.

‘And first drownee on the Titanic,’ continued Adrian, topping the lot of them.

‘Oh, I didn’t know that she was in Titanic,’ said Diana innocently, at which point Netty and Jan keeled over giggling.

‘You pair are bloody horrible,’ growled Diana as the penny dropped, although she did say it with a certain affection, which made them laugh all the harder.

‘So Fiona is definitely coming?’ asked Carol.

‘She said she would, although apparently there was a chance she might be called back for filming, in which case it could make things a bit tight.’

‘Oh, she was just saying that to impress you. Of course she’ll be here,’ said Adrian. ‘Understudy to Mrs Macbeth, Lady Macduff—if there was ever a woman who needed stabbing…’ He hesitated and then said to Carol, ‘You want to watch yourself on these steep stairs, you know. I don’t think she ever forgave you for stealing the lead out from under her retroussé nose. She’s probably still out for blood.’

Carol smiled grimly. ‘She was always out for blood.’

Netty nodded. ‘She was re ally pissed off with you, you know—you getting the leading role and the leading man.’

‘Come off it, it’s a long time ago now. Let’s go. I could murder a drink,’ said Carol uncomfortably.

‘Poor choice of words,’ said Jan. ‘I remember she was livid when the reviews came out; didn’t get so much as a word.’

Carol laughed. ‘That’s only because you three stole the show. Madam here,’ she waved towards Diana, ‘and her magic wart.’

‘Anyway, Fiona said she might be delayed,’ finished Diana, determined to bring the conversation round to something a little less anarchic.

‘So that’s her and Gareth,’ said Adie archly. ‘Right, well, let’s go and find this pub then.’

The gang moseyed out with Adrian in the lead.

As they fell into step Carol let thoughts surface that hadn’t come to the fore since she left school: why was it Gareth hadn’t been interested in Fiona instead of her? Perhaps it was that he couldn’t stand the idea of sharing the limelight. Two egos that big would probably have sent the place up in smoke.

‘And Gareth said he had a few things to sort out before he left,’ said Diana to their backs.

‘And what did you say?’ asked Carol, turning back but trying hard not to sound too eager.

‘Nothing much—God, you have got it bad, haven’t you?’

Carol shook her head, reluctant to commit herself. ‘Not re ally, I just wondered…’

Diana grinned. ‘You don’t fool me. You’d better head off and catch up. We can talk later.’

Carol nodded, while somewhere deep in her heart she felt a sharp little stab of betrayal for Raf.

Meanwhile in a large semi-detached town house in an unfashionable suburb of Hemel Hempstead, Gareth Howard was pulling on his jacket.

‘About these…’ Leonora began, as she and Gareth arrived together at the front door. She held a sheaf of bills in her hand.

Gareth leaned forward and kissed her hard on the lips and then each cheek. ‘I’ll miss you, sweetie,’ he purred.

‘What about th—’ she began again, but wasn’t anywhere near fast enough.

‘My God is that the time?’ he said, looking down at his watch. ‘I re ally need to be gone, darling.’ As he stepped through the door Gareth took a small box from his jacket pocket, on top of which was an intricate curl of scarlet ribbon.

Leonora pulled a face, trying very hard to sustain the emotion that had propelled her downstairs after him. ‘What on earth is this?’ she snapped.

He grinned. ‘Something to remember me by.’

‘What do you mean, remember you by? I thought you said you would be back on Sunday evening?’

As she lifted the lid Gareth was already stepping out into the street. Inside the box was a pair of black silk stockings, not unlike those he had tied Leonora to the bed with the very first night they had slept together.

‘Gareth?’ she said, looking up, but he was already gone.

‘Mummy?’ Patrick tugged at her cardigan. ‘Where’s Daddy gone?’

Leonora shook her head. ‘I’ve got no idea,’ she said, taking his hand and scooping the baby up from the pram just inside the hall door. ‘No idea at all.’

THREE (#ulink_266443c3-3e53-5ae0-a87f-da1fe4787529)

‘Callista? Callista Haze?’

Callista Haze looked up from a battered copy of Macbeth and her thoughts. Although it took her a moment or two to focus on the face she would have known that voice anywhere. George Bearman, former head of Drama and English at Belvedere High School, stood beside the pub table, looking down at her and smiling nervously.