be off. There’s a finance committee meeting tonight, so I’ll grab a bite in The Crown after work.’
He pecked her cheek and left by the front door, picking up his briefcase on the way. She watched him go, then went back to the kitchen to sit with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, staring into space. The boot was well and truly on the other foot now.
Ought she to tell Simon? What good would it do if she did? Would he even want to know? Would it make her feel any less guilty? Would it make George a different kind of person? But if he found out… Supposing the baby looked like Simon? Supposing some time in the future it all came out? But supposing it was George’s, after all? It could be. She must keep her secret.
Rita carried the tray over to where George sat in a corner of the bar and set the plate of mixed grill in front of him. ‘Anything else, Mr Kennett?’
‘No, thank you. I’ll have another beer, though.’
She picked up his empty glass and went to pull him another pint. When she took it over to him, he was no longer alone. Virginia Bosgrove was sitting beside him. She was picking chips from his plate and eating them while he talked, his head lowered towards her. Oh, there was no doubt about what was going on. Did Mrs Kennett know her husband was such a bastard? She suddenly remembered the day she had met Barbara standing outside Virginia Bosgrove’s house, transfixed with shock by something the woman next door had said. Poor Mrs Kennett!
After he came out of prison, Colin had told her about the arson, hinted at other things George Kennett would not like made public, but she had thought he was exaggerating or making things up to make himself look big. Big he certainly was, but he wasn’t a philanderer. He might give her a thump now and again, but he hadn’t gone with another woman, not in Melsham, not on his own doorstep. She put the beer on the table in front of George but he barely glanced at her.
‘You shouldn’t have come here,’ George said. After all the trouble he had taken to avoid her, not answering her letters and phone calls, trying to put her from his mind, she had to track him down, today of all days. ‘Don’t you care that we’ll be seen together?’
‘Not anymore. You said give it a few months, time for Barbara to get used to the idea, give you time to get in with Bulliman, then we could be together. It’s been over four months.’
‘Do you think I haven’t noticed?’ he hissed at her. ‘Do you think I don’t count the days since I last saw you? To speak to and hold, I mean, not in the distance going about your work: that doesn’t count.’
‘Then why is it taking so long? Surely Barbara can’t still want you…?’
‘Funnily enough, she does.’
‘You did tell her?’ She stopped picking at his food and leant towards him so that her long hair fell over her face. She scooped it out of the way with her hand. Idly he wondered why she had started wearing it loose. He didn’t like it like that. He preferred it in a chignon which made her look cool and sophisticated, highlighting the contrast between the public Virginia and the unfettered Virginia in bed, which was a Virginia he liked to keep to himself. ‘George, you did tell her?’
‘Of course I did. I told you I would, didn’t I?’
‘Then why won’t she release you?’
‘It’s difficult, especially now.’ He paused. ‘She’s pregnant.’
‘Oh, my God! And you said… How could you, George?’
‘I couldn’t live with her and not…’
‘Why not? If she knows about us, knows you would rather be with me, then she’s perverted to go on wanting you.’ She paused to look him in the eye, but he avoided it. ‘You didn’t tell her, did you? You haven’t said a word to her.’
‘Yes, I have.’
‘Not plainly enough, evidently. Look here, George, either you want to be with me and nothing else matters, or you want to stay married to Barbara and be bored to death for the rest of your life. Which is it?’
‘Do you need to ask?’
‘Yes, or I wouldn’t have. Oh, George, if only you knew what a hell the last four months have been for me, pretending nothing is wrong, being friendly to Barbara, not going