‘This a bad time? If so, maybe we could meet. I need your advice – and it might even be a story for you.’
It couldn’t be, could it? Josh wondered. He couldn’t actually be calling him to talk to him about his infidelity. He decided he needed time to think and said, ‘Yes. Bit busy right now. Could we talk tomorrow after work? I presume it’s not desperately urgent.’
It could be, he supposed; Alice might have found out about Diana, delivered an ultimatum, and demanded an answer by tomorrow. Well, if that was the case, tough.
‘No, no, not terribly, tomorrow evening will do. I’ll warn Alice. She gets pretty sick of me being out every other night.’
I expect she does, Josh thought; poor, sweet, weary Alice. The last person to deserve such treatment. ‘We can make it quite early,’ he said, more from a wish to save Alice than anything else. ‘I have to be back for a conference at six, could have a quick drink somewhere near here at five.’
‘Cheshire Cheese?’
‘Fine. See you then. Please give my love to Alice,’ Josh added. The poor girl needed all the support and affection available to her.
‘I will. She’s pretty fed up, little bugger’s really huge now. Thanks, Josh.’
Bastard, thought Josh. Absolute two-faced bastard.
Tom had been speaking the truth about Diana. He had told her that he didn’t want to see her any more, it had been wonderful while it had lasted, that he would miss her of course, but that Alice was growing suspicious; she was about to have a baby and he owed it to her to try to be a good husband and father.
‘Besides, once this one is born, I’ll be even more needed at home. I won’t be able to spend hours out of the house every other night.’
‘Darling! Would that it were every other night.’
He was silent.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘This is a bit of a bombshell. I’m sorry, Tom. Friend Tom. Can we still be friends?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. It wouldn’t work.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because if I was with you I’d have to go to bed with you.’
‘Well, I suppose that’s something. To soothe my ruffled ego.’ Silence. Then, ‘And – I must admit, my feelings too. There must be something wrong with me. First my husband, now my lover, both want to get rid of me.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Diana. You’re a very beautiful, very clever woman.’
‘Not clever or beautiful enough, it seems. Well, Tom, thank you for being honest with me. I appreciate it. And it has been fun. Such fun, indeed, I think we should have just one last glimpse of it, before you go.’
‘Diana, no!’
‘But why not? What harm can it do? You’re here, you’ve made your getaway for the evening. You’ll be out for an extra hour or so; what’s that, set against this blameless future you envisage?’
‘Diana, I’m sorry but no. It’s over. It would be – well, a travesty, to – to –’
‘What? Oh, Tom, come on. For old times’ sake. No? All right. Just kiss me goodbye. Please. Dear Friend Tom –’
And at that he was lost. The goodbye kiss went on and on, Diana collapsing under him, laughing, just as she had that first night, wanting him as she had that first night – she became irresistible again.
‘Well,’ she said, sprawled naked on the sofa, watching him dressing, unable to meet her eyes, his face a study in guilt and remorse. ‘You know what, Tom? I don’t fancy life without that occasionally.’
‘Diana, I said—’
‘Oh, I know what you said. It made me very sad. So au revoir, then, I think, dear Friend Tom,’ she said. ‘Not goodbye.’
‘Diana—’
‘No, I really don’t want to lose you now. I decided that about – what? – twenty minutes ago. Just as I – well, you know what I mean. Anyway, I want you to continue your visits. I need them, you know. I spend many, many evenings alone here. You have your Alice – who do I have? Occasionally Jamie, sometimes a few friends, but most often just me. So I need you, Friend Tom, I really do, and I don’t want to do without you. So please continue to come and call—’
He interrupted her. ‘Diana, that’s impossible, I told you, very sadly for me at any rate, it’s—’
‘If you don’t come,’ she said, her voice quite different suddenly, ‘if you insist on saying it’s over, then I’m afraid I shall have to visit Alice and explain where you’ve really been all those evenings. I’d love to meet the children, I do really like children, as you know, and I’m also quite curious to meet Alice.’
Tom sat down abruptly on a small gilt chair that stood next to the drawing-room door; it creaked ominously. Rather like his life, he thought. His legs had become shaky and jelly-like, an unpleasant accompaniment to the nausea rising in him.
Diana was pulling on the silk robe she had been wearing for his arrival; he looked at her and she smiled brightly, as if she had just offered him a cup of coffee.
‘Or – or should I say, I could go to the press. That would never do so near the election, would it? When you’ll need all the good write-ups you can get. So, what with one thing and another, Friend Tom, I think you’d be much better preserving the status quo, don’t you? Shall we say two weeks from now? For your next visit? Now, will you excuse me, darling, I’ve got to change – I’m having dinner with a girlfriend.’
She walked over to him, kissed him briefly on the lips, and then disappeared up the stairs. Tom somehow dragged himself onto his feet, let himself out of the house, and stumbled down the mews.
Chapter 47
Diana actually had no intention whatever of going either to Alice or the press. She simply wanted to make Tom sweat a bit. She had been hurt by his rejection, more than she would have expected. She loved him in a way; felt she had loved him for years. Their relationship had always been oddly close, from the first time she had properly talked to him, in her parents’ house when he had fallen in the snow, right until she had finally achieved what felt like a lifelong ambition and got him into bed.
Although – she was sure no one would believe her – she did value him above all as a friend; someone to talk to about her life and its problems, to laugh with, to have a drink with. He fascinated her, with his rise from poor village boy, his unshakeable socialist principles, his determination to improve people’s lives, his devotion to what he seemed to regard as an almost sacred cause, that of the National Health Service.