‘No problem at all, Pol!’ Debbie sounded like she meant it. ‘Just wanted to see how you were. We’ve missed you at the club.’
Opal had been looking for a reason not to go to the country club for years, but each week would roll around and she would invariably find herself without any plans or company and make the short ten-minute drive down the road.
There was always something to do – tennis, treatments in the spa, or an afternoon tea in the salon. All tastefully set to the backdrop of what had been one of the grandest homes in the county, before the Wentworths went broke and sold off the manor. And there was always some other bored housewife to talk to, usually over a midday cocktail.
Although Debbie was really the only person there she actually liked; all the other ‘ladies’ she found to be judgemental and superficial. Debbie always insisted that in fact they thought very highly of Opal, and if anythingtheywere anxious about being judged byher.This had happened often in her adult life, Opal’s reservedness, her stoicism, being mistaken as aloofness, or even mystique.
‘I know, I’ve just been so busy with everything here …’ Opal stretched out the phone cord and shut the kitchen door with her foot. She didn’t want to be overheard. ‘It’s a bit of an adjustment honestly.’
‘I’m sure you’re doing an absolutely fine job. They must all be so grateful for such a generous opportunity.’
‘You’d think …’ Opal muttered. Debbie, though, was on a roll, and didn’t seem to hear.
‘If you need anything at all, just let me know. I can come over and help with some cooking, or if you need a time-out, you’re always welcome over here. We’re not sooo far away …’
Opal could only think of Agnes, the idea of her wandering in from their pool, a sarong loosely tied around her waist and her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders. Her legs smooth and long …
‘Yes, maybe you could come over and meet all my new …guests?’ As soon as she spoke the words, Opal worried she’d made a mistake.
‘I’d love to! In all honesty, Pol, I’ve found it nearly impossible to contain my curiosity. I even wandered down to the end of the grounds a couple of days ago to see if I could spot anything over the gate, but I only saw Martin on his morning stroll …’
Debbie was still talking on the other end of the line, but Opal’s mind had zoned in on that detail. Martin on a morning stroll? At Fairfax?
‘When was this, Debs?’ Opal interrupted.
‘Um, sorry, I’m blathering on. When was what?’
‘When did you see Martin?’
Debbie went quiet, as though only now realising that she had unwittingly shared a pertinent fact.
‘Let me think, it was Tuesday I think.’
Martin was due home that Friday evening, having announced he would need to stay in the city all week, as he’d scurried out the front door on Sunday night.
It was confronting how new details of his betrayal could still awaken such sorrow and rage in Opal. There was something about the idea of him parking his car up the lane and sneaking onto the grounds just to visit Agnes – even though it would be far easier for her to go to London. How thoughtful of him, how considerate that he didn’t want to inconvenience her too much.
‘Well he told me he’d be in the Marylebone flat all week, that’s all,’ Opal said flatly.
‘Oh, Pol, damn, I’m sorry, that was so thoughtless of me …’ Debbie trailed off, and Opal realised a moment too late thatshe had set herself up for the next question. ‘Wait, but why would he want to hang around these parts, unless the … other woman lives around here …’ Debbie was musing out loud, but she was edging too close to the truth.
‘I guess it could be someone from the club,’ Opal cut in, feeling a stab of guilt for letting herself get dragged into this web of lies. Maybe it would be best for Debbie to know? But then again if she found out that Opal had known and kept it from her … Opal banished the thought away. She couldn’t risk losing Debbie right now.
‘Surely not. That really would be …’ Debbie sounded angry on Opal’s behalf, and Opal wondered if she might have inspired Debbie to utter an expletive for the first time in their friendship ‘… beyond the pale!’ Opal chuckled to herself.
‘What’s funny?’
‘Oh nothing, only that I should warn you that these artists are really quite foul-mouthed at times. You might get a bit of a shock.’
‘How exciting. Should I pop over this evening then? If Martin is due back, maybe you could do with a bit of moral support?’
She was always so thoughtful. Opal smiled to herself. It would do her some good to practise a bit of gratitude, and she really was grateful for Debbie. ‘Yes, I think that would do nicely; maybe you could bring one of your lovely cakes?’
‘Would it be something that Agnes might enjoy, do you think? I only ask because she’s been moping around the house all day. She seems all het up about something, but getting anything out of her is like blood from a stone these days.’
Opal stiffened. She needed to think fast. ‘I don’t think it’s really her scene, Debs. And maybe it’s a bit disorientating formy artists to have so many new faces at the table. It’s supposed to be a relaxing retreat after all.’
Opal braced herself for pushback. It was a lame excuse really. But of course, Debbie was understanding. ‘That makes sense. OK, well, just me and a gateau then! See you at seven. Toodaloo.’
