A Week in Winter(102)

‘I bet it is.’

‘Do we say anything?’ Eva wondered aloud.

‘Of course we do. The question is, to which of them? To Freda or to Mark?’

‘If we hadn’t gone in there . . .’ Eva began.

‘That’s no use – we did go in. And we saw him. She can’t be made a fool of like this.’

‘But it would humiliate her if we said—’ Eva was protective.

‘Well, it would humiliate her more if we didn’t say,’ Lane countered angrily.

‘We don’t actually know . . .’

‘Of course we know. That wasn’t his office colleague or his sister. That child was his. Let me tell you that if you saw my lover with his wife and daughter, I’d say you were a poor friend not to tell me.’

‘You say that now, but you might think differently if it really was the case.’

‘Well, I’m glad we cleared that up, anyway, because I would most definitely want to be told. That puts the ball back in my court, gives me the right to make a decision.’

‘But we can’t tell her, Lane. Come on, think about it.’

‘It’s important enough for him to lie about it, tell her that he’s in London, and be holed up in a wine bar where he’s not going to meet anyone.’

‘Or so he thought,’ Eva said. ‘Don’t tell her, Lane, it would destroy her.’

‘She should be told. Let her take him back if she wants to, but she has the right to know.’

‘Leave it, just for a bit, anyway.’

In the end, neither of them had to tell Freda. Mark got there first.

It was the night of the reception at Holly’s. She hadn’t heard from Mark all day but she knew he was busy. She hoped she would be a credit to him tonight. Eva’s black jacket looked very well on her; she would wear a scarlet silk skirt and her good black and red shoes. She knew Mark would have to circulate and that she would have to manage on her own, but later they would be together.

The reception was in full swing when Freda arrived at the hotel. There was a buzz of conversation, and trays of elegant canapés were being passed around.

She slipped in without acknowledging Mark. He was at the centre of a laughing group near the window. Freda moved to the other side of the room and watched him talking. He was animated and able to include everyone around him in whatever it was that they were talking about. His easy smile rested on one person and then the next. And then he moved on seamlessly to another group.

She must not stand here like part of the furniture, looking at him. She was an invited guest.

She recognised a few faces. A man who ran a TV chat show, a woman columnist, a well-known television reporter. He had certainly the kind of people he needed. He would be in good form later on.

She chatted easily to people around her, and drank little from her glass so that it could not be topped up. She met a man who was in charge of IT for a large company. He agreed with Freda that there was an almighty waste with technology being updated every week and systems becoming obsolete in a year or two. Freda wondered what they did with their old equipment, and made a very strong case for him to consider Finn Road Library. She explained about the computer classes, and he seemed very interested. Then she saw Mark looking across at her oddly and hastily changed the subject to the splendours of the hotel. It was such a jewel of a place, and everyone felt that it was their own little secret.

‘That’s why it would be insanity to change it,’ the man said.

‘But to make sure it survives, to get a steady flow of visitors . . .?’ she was repeating Mark’s words now.

‘There are dozens of hotels with big conference facilities, spas, entertainment for the busloads. Holly’s is different; it should stay different,’ he said.

‘And what if it gets squeezed out, if it just gets crushed by all the others because it was afraid to expand?’

‘You’ve bought the line,’ the man said. ‘You’re well indoctrinated already, you don’t even need to stay for the speeches.’

‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

‘Oh, the spiel, disguised as a nice warm welcome, lovely to see you all in this old-fashioned place, now we plan to change it and ruin it.’

‘And will they?’ Freda could hardly breathe.

‘Don’t know yet,’ he said. ‘A few of us on the board want things to stay as they are, the others all see a great glittering future and a franchising of the Holly brand abroad. They’re obviously going to tear it down, and this little circus is to get their friends in the press to help them get planning permission. Anyway, don’t get me started. What’s your library called, in case we can send a few computers your way?’

They exchanged details. At that moment, Mark appeared at their elbows.

‘You’re never cruising the room looking for help for your library, Miss O’Donovan?’ he said.

‘My suggestion entirely, Mark. This young lady is doing something worthwhile with her life, and that’s a rare treat these days.’

Mark steered her away firmly.

‘Who was he?’ Freda whispered.

‘Never mind who was he, what the hell is going on?’ Mark hissed at her. ‘What do you think you’re doing, trying to sabotage my event? Who put you up to it? No, don’t tell me, you and those bitches . . .’