Page 55 of Wife After Wife
“Jesus,” said Harry. “How do Things One and Two feel about that?”
Cassandra pursed her lips. “I don’t use those names anymore. It was disrespectful.”
Katie noticed the singular “I.” “Charles, it must be nice to have them home again, to see them every night.”
Charles looked across at Cassandra.
“Tell them, Charles,” she said, with a gentle smile.
Charles cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine. “We wanted to tell you in person, Katie. Harry knows, but... Cassandra and I are separating. It’s amicable, and we’ll be doing everything to make sure the children aren’t affected by our living apart.”
Katie’s heart sank. A picture came into her head, of the four of them during a snowy weekend at a cottage in Wales, sitting by a roaring firedrinking wine. After a raucous game of Trivial Pursuit, Cassandra had wondered what they would be doing in ten years’ time.
“Darling,” Charles had said, “you’ll be bringing me my cocoa and we shall settle down in front ofQuestionTimeto shout at the MPs, just like my ma and pa.”
I thought those times would last forever.
“We’ll be divorcing as soon as is practical,” continued Charles, “and... I’ll be marrying Megan.”
Katie felt her world cave in a little further. Her eyes flew to Cassandra. Her old friend maintained her serene expression, but Katie wondered how much of her newfound positive energy she’d had to deploy to cope with that announcement. She knew how deeply Cassandra had loved Charles. Maybe still did.
Meanwhile, Harry was staring out the window as if this was all old news.
The silence was too heavy. “So it really wasn’t just a childhood crush, then,” she said, to break it.
Harry spoke. “They’re meant to be together, Katie—I can see that now. Perhaps that sort of love only comes along once in a lifetime.” He smiled at Charles. “So if you’re lucky enough to find it, you’ve got to grab it. There’s no point in hanging on to a broken relationship that’s making you both unhappy.”
“In letting go of Charles, I’m letting go of the pain,” said Cassandra.
Katie felt a deep sadness that her old friend had had to change herself so radically to cope with Charles’s desertion. “Cass, I’m happy for you that you’ve found some inner peace. But don’t turn your back on your old self completely. We all loved you very much, you know.”
“ButIdidn’t love me, Katie. You have your faith; I have my new life with my children. I hope you’ll still be part of that. Charles and Megan too.”
Charles and Megan. If everyone was moving on and happy, then why did she feel such a sense of loss?
Because Harry was Katie’s once-in-a-lifetime. But the way he’d said those words told her she was no longer his.
Harry
Was that...?” said Terri, joining Harry beside a gold-medal-winning Japanese garden.
“Princess Margaret? Yep. She’s enormous fun. Pity you missed her, you two would get on.”
“You know her?”
“She visited Berryhurst a few times when I was a boy. Tony Armstrong-Jones was a big buddy of my father’s. Where’ve you been?”
“With Alan Titchmarsh. A darned fine Yorkshireman. Had to pretend I understood the fook about herbaceous borders. I haven’t a clue—don’t know my daffodils from my delphiniums.”
“Same. Letting the side down rather, aren’t we, Baskins? Still, certain pastimes should be saved for middle age, I feel. Gardening being one of them. And golf.”
Terri was Harry’s last-minute plus-one at the Royal Gala Preview of the Chelsea Flower Show. Harry had been dismayed, and not a little exasperated, when Katie rang in tears that afternoon, saying she couldn’t face going out. She’d been looking forward to it so much, but her anxiety had ambushed her before she made it out the door.
“Margaret’s just agreed to an interview in theRack,” Harry said. “You’re welcome.”
“Nice one, boss.” They clinked glasses.
“Marilyn Monroe at four o’clock,” muttered Terri. “Looks like she’s got you in her sights. Where do I know her from? Ah, isn’t she the other Lyebon girl?”
