there, the bed was empty. He thought she
must have gone to the bathroom, but the bathroom opened off the bedroom and
there was no light under the door. Getting up, he slipped on a bathrobe and
walked quietly down the corridor to the sitting-room. Cassie was sitting on the
settee in the pool of light thrown by the standard lamp, her dressing grown
wrapped round her and her feet tucked under her. She was busily writing in her
notebook again. Simon watched her for a long moment, then turned and went
silently back to the bedroom, to lie thoughtfully and smoke a cigarette as he
waited for his wife to come back to bed.
'Cassie? It's John Russell.'
`Oh, hi, John. How are you?'
It was a Saturday afternoon, the weekend
after Simon had managed to get home, and Cassie had been washing her hair when
the phone rang.
'I'm fine. You?'
`Yes, great.'
`Good. I was afraid I wouldn't catch you,
that you would already have set out to meet Julia.'
`Julia?' Cassie queried on a note of
surprise.
`Yes. Look, she's gone out without her cheque
book and credit cards I've just found her wallet on the hall table.' He
chuckled. `She'll be mad as fire when she goes to buy something and finds she
can't'
'Well, I don't suppose. you're altogether
sorry,' Cassie returned, jokingly. `But look, John, you've got it wrong, I
haven't…'
She was going to add that she hadn't made any
arrangement to meet Julia that day, but he interrupted her by saying, `Must
rush, I've got a golf match this afternoon. But she said she was going out with
you, so I thought I'd better let you know in case she started panicking and
reported the wallet stolen or something. You know what she's like,' he added
with all the husbandly lack of sympathy that comes after a ten-year marriage.
`But, John…'
'Must go, love. Sec you.'
And he put the phone down before she could
protest any further. Cassie shrugged as she replaced her own receiver;
obviously he'd got her mixed up with some other friend that Julia was going
shopping with, although he'd seemed pretty definite about it. And, come to
think of it, Julia had never mentioned having shopping trips in the West End
with anyone else, often saying that she liked to go with Cassie because she had
such a good fashion sense. Well, whoever she was with she wouldn't be buying
much today without her money.
It was only later, when Cassie was
blow-drying her hair and reading a magazine at the same time, that her eye
chanced on a letter to the agony column in which a married woman who was having
an affair asked for advice, and it occurred to her to wonder if Julia had been
using her as an excuse and that she might be meeting another man. At first she
dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Julia just wasn't the type, and besides, she
loved her home and family too much. But then Cassie remembered uneasily that
Julia hadn't phoned her to go out on a Saturday for several weeks, and that the
last time she had seen her she'd been more than a little fed up with John and
his incessant golf. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became.
One read so often of people having affairs that it had become commonplace, but
the thought that it was someone you knew quite well made the whole idea
shocking and wrong. Cassie decided in the end to phone Julia as if nothing had
happened and suggest they meet and then try to find out if she was right. She
didn't want to do it, it was like peeping through bedroom keyholes, but she
felt that she had a right to know if Julia was using her as an excuse to meet a
lover. And besides, she might easily have given the game away to John, and the
last thing she wanted was to be involved in a marital row.
But as it happened any approach she might
make was forestalled, because Julia phoned her at work on the Monday morning
and asked her to have lunch with her. Almost as soon as they met, Cassie knew
that she had been right. There was a slightly ashamed, obstinate look in her
friend's eyes, but apart from that she
must have gone to the bathroom, but the bathroom opened off the bedroom and
there was no light under the door. Getting up, he slipped on a bathrobe and
walked quietly down the corridor to the sitting-room. Cassie was sitting on the
settee in the pool of light thrown by the standard lamp, her dressing grown
wrapped round her and her feet tucked under her. She was busily writing in her
notebook again. Simon watched her for a long moment, then turned and went
silently back to the bedroom, to lie thoughtfully and smoke a cigarette as he
waited for his wife to come back to bed.
'Cassie? It's John Russell.'
`Oh, hi, John. How are you?'
It was a Saturday afternoon, the weekend
after Simon had managed to get home, and Cassie had been washing her hair when
the phone rang.
'I'm fine. You?'
`Yes, great.'
`Good. I was afraid I wouldn't catch you,
that you would already have set out to meet Julia.'
`Julia?' Cassie queried on a note of
surprise.
`Yes. Look, she's gone out without her cheque
book and credit cards I've just found her wallet on the hall table.' He
chuckled. `She'll be mad as fire when she goes to buy something and finds she
can't'
'Well, I don't suppose. you're altogether
sorry,' Cassie returned, jokingly. `But look, John, you've got it wrong, I
haven't…'
She was going to add that she hadn't made any
arrangement to meet Julia that day, but he interrupted her by saying, `Must
rush, I've got a golf match this afternoon. But she said she was going out with
you, so I thought I'd better let you know in case she started panicking and
reported the wallet stolen or something. You know what she's like,' he added
with all the husbandly lack of sympathy that comes after a ten-year marriage.
`But, John…'
'Must go, love. Sec you.'
And he put the phone down before she could
protest any further. Cassie shrugged as she replaced her own receiver;
obviously he'd got her mixed up with some other friend that Julia was going
shopping with, although he'd seemed pretty definite about it. And, come to
think of it, Julia had never mentioned having shopping trips in the West End
with anyone else, often saying that she liked to go with Cassie because she had
such a good fashion sense. Well, whoever she was with she wouldn't be buying
much today without her money.
It was only later, when Cassie was
blow-drying her hair and reading a magazine at the same time, that her eye
chanced on a letter to the agony column in which a married woman who was having
an affair asked for advice, and it occurred to her to wonder if Julia had been
using her as an excuse and that she might be meeting another man. At first she
dismissed the idea as ludicrous. Julia just wasn't the type, and besides, she
loved her home and family too much. But then Cassie remembered uneasily that
Julia hadn't phoned her to go out on a Saturday for several weeks, and that the
last time she had seen her she'd been more than a little fed up with John and
his incessant golf. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became.
One read so often of people having affairs that it had become commonplace, but
the thought that it was someone you knew quite well made the whole idea
shocking and wrong. Cassie decided in the end to phone Julia as if nothing had
happened and suggest they meet and then try to find out if she was right. She
didn't want to do it, it was like peeping through bedroom keyholes, but she
felt that she had a right to know if Julia was using her as an excuse to meet a
lover. And besides, she might easily have given the game away to John, and the
last thing she wanted was to be involved in a marital row.
But as it happened any approach she might
make was forestalled, because Julia phoned her at work on the Monday morning
and asked her to have lunch with her. Almost as soon as they met, Cassie knew
that she had been right. There was a slightly ashamed, obstinate look in her
friend's eyes, but apart from that she
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