A Week in Winter: A Novel by Marcia Willett Page B

first time since the accident. No one’s going to take that away from him, Pat. No one.’
    ‘I know,’ he said wretchedly. ‘Of course I know that. But she doesn’t really want me. I’m sure of that. If I make sure she’s well provided for—’
    Mary laughed. ‘You’re kidding,’ she said. ‘You know your wife better than I do but I simply wouldn’t count on that, I really wouldn’t.’
    His look of despair made her feel guilty and ashamed. He’d been so sweet, so generous.
    ‘Look,’ she said, giving in, ‘of course, we’ll have our weekend. We’ve got it all planned now, so why not? We’ll talk everything through then but please leave things just as they are until afterwards. Don’t rock any boats or we might find everything ruined. Promise?’
    He promised. Of course he did. She knew just how important the weekend was to him. After he’d gone she went in the small bedroom to look at Stuart. She kissed him lightly, moved by a fierce protective love for him. Nothing must hurt him further; nothing and no one.
    Walking home, Patrick tried to pin down his ideas. He must work through this sensibly, positively, but he was aware of the dangers. Hecould not protect Mary and Stuart, although he wanted to think that he could. If Selina chose to spill the beans to the school governors it was likely that he or Mary—or both—could suffer. It was possible that nobody would give a damn but he couldn’t take the chance. So how could he work through it? If only he had enough money to set Mary up in her own place, where he could join her when the dust settled, then at least she would have a certain security. It would be unforgivable to damage her—yet he needed her; needed her desperately. Life would be intolerable without the thought of her in the background. Her little flat, plain and poor though it was, had become a haven for him. On these evenings, when Selina was at her bridge club and imagined him to be having supper at the pub, he and Mary were always together. He’d buy a takeaway and a bottle of wine which they’d share at the small rickety table and afterwards they’d make love. Oh, how long the summer holidays had seemed; how interminable. No school and the bridge club closed for six weeks had cut their opportunities considerably. It was the memory of those endless weeks which had made him determined to force things to a conclusion. Yet, this evening, he’d felt a drawing back on Mary’s part; a reluctance.
    He pushed the thought away from him. After all, it was perfectly reasonable that she should feel nervous. That meeting with Selina had put the whole thing on a different footing and it was unreasonable to hope that Mary would be unmoved by it. She had so much to lose that it was only natural that she should have moments of panic. Their lovemaking had been as good as ever, the weekend away shimmered temptingly ahead, and he felt refreshed and confident again. Somehow he
must
make it work. As he opened the gate and felt for his key, he glanced up at the smart little terraced house. Simple though it was it was a great deal better than most of his colleagues could afford. This was thanks to Hector’s generosity, of course, and Patrick knew that it was incumbent upon him to make certain that Selina did not suffer financially either. He must be fair to them both, but how was it to be done?
    A quick glance round showed him that Selina was not yet home. Relieved, Patrick hung up his coat and hurried up the stairs. With luck he might be in bed and feigning sleep before she arrived back.

Chapter Ten
    Polonius sat on the veranda watching Maudie rake the leaves from the lawn. Each time she turned to look at him he sat up, his ears pricked, hopeful that she might allow him to join her—but Maudie refused to be moved by his eager expectancy. The long sheltered lawn with its high, thick hedges was approached only from the French windows of the bungalow and it had a secret, magical quality, rather like the