‘Yes, Jude,’ said Oenone Playfair wretchedly, ‘that’s what I’m afraid of.’
TEN
Carole instantly picked up on the implication. ‘You mean there’s someone you know who Reggie might have been meeting?’
For the first time in their encounter Oenone Playfair looked embarrassed. Up to that point she had been keeping good control of her emotions, the strongest of which seemed, not surprisingly, to be grief. Embarrassment was new.
‘Would you like more coffee?’ she asked, playing for time.
They both said that they would like their cups refilled. After Oenone had poured for them and placed the silver pot back down on the silver tray, she began, ‘Look, this probably sounds silly and perhaps I am just an old woman maundering on, but although generally speaking Reggie and I had a very happy marriage, there was one time, many years ago, when he hurt me very much.’
‘Are you talking about an affair?’ asked Jude, always sensitive to that kind of hidden implication.
‘Yes. Well, I don’t know how far the relationship ever went, but Reggie certainly did fall in love with another woman and it did have a profound effect on us . . . on me, certainly.’
‘The trust issue?’
‘Exactly that, Jude. The relationship, affair, infatuation, whatever it was, didn’t last very long. I think it may have started when they were both on some trip to Paris, but I really don’t know. And I don’t believe Reggie was ever actually thinking of leaving. He said he’d never stopped loving me, he’d just been surprised by his capacity to love two women at the same time.’
‘Men often say that in such circumstances,’ Carole observed drily.
‘Maybe. I’m sorry, this sounds ridiculous – a woman in her seventies being as jealous of a man as a schoolgirl protecting her first boyfriend from her predatory friends.’
‘It’s not ridiculous at all,’ said Jude. ‘The capacity to fall in love – and to be hurt by the people one loves – that’s nothing to do with age. It’s just something we’re stuck with all the way through our lives. Betrayal doesn’t hurt any less in your nineties than it did in your teens.’
‘Mm. Anyway, Reggie and I settled down, got back on an even keel. And he was very good to me – he was always very good to me, even when the . . . relationship was going on. And I suppose the whole thing lasted . . . well, I don’t believe it was more than three months, which in retrospect seems a tiny portion of time.’
‘But felt longer while you were living through it.’
‘Exactly, Jude. Anyway, at the time, when my head was buzzing with ever more destructive thoughts and imaginings, I became obsessed with the question of where Reggie was managing to meet this woman. I’m sure he’d never have brought her here – I was around most of the time, apart from anything else – and this was before we’d bought the flat in London, so that wouldn’t have been available for them. Reggie had let slip that the other woman was married, so I’d have thought it unlikely they’d meet at her place . . . though I suppose it is possible.’
‘Hotels are traditional places for illicit assignations,’ Carole pointed out.
‘Yes, but . . . well, I suppose he could have afforded it. Reggie was already doing very well by then. But – oh God, I feel dreadful saying this, particularly in the current circumstances. I went through Reggie’s credit card receipts. It’s something I’d never have dreamed of doing before. It’s amazing how corrosive suspicion can be, turning you into the kind of person you never wanted to become – or thought you ever would become. Anyway, there was nothing. No receipts from stays in hotels that I didn’t know about. I felt guilty for being so untrusting, but . . . Anyway, as I say, I just became obsessed with the question.
‘All kinds of silly ideas were going through my head. I knew the local young people who lacked tolerant parents tended to conduct their sex lives in cars . . . or there was a favoured wooded area on the local golf course, but I thought Reggie would have a bit more sophistication than that. And then the thought came to me . . . that maybe they met at Lockleigh House tennis court.’
‘Really?’ said Carole, immediately intrigued.
‘Back then the booking hours were much the same as they are now. No one there between, say, ten o’clock at night and seven thirty the next morning. They didn’t have the electronic keypad entry system – each member had their own key, so there was no problem about gaining access. And of course,’ she concluded sardonically, ‘the club room, then as now, does boast those large, extremely accommodating sofas.’
‘Are you suggesting,’ asked Carole, ‘that the woman with whom your husband had an affair was also a member of the real tennis club?’
Once again Oenone Playfair was drowned in embarrassment. ‘I think, I mean . . . I couldn’t be sure, but . . . yes, I think it could have been.’
‘There aren’t that many woman members, are there?’ asked Jude.
‘There are quite a few, but not as many as the men, no.’
‘So you must have had a pretty shrewd idea of who Reggie’s lover was.’
Oenone winced at the word ‘lover’. ‘As I say, I’m not sure how far the relationship went. He was certainly infatuated with her, but whether they actually . . .’ Her words petered out.
‘From what you say,’ said Carole firmly, ‘you know exactly who the woman was.’
But the widow didn’t want to go that far. ‘There were one or two lady members who possibly . . . I couldn’t be sure. It was a very difficult time for me. My mind was so confused with lots of different anxieties and suspicions. Sometimes I’d been playing a ladies’ doubles and think it could be any one of the other three. I wasn’t very rational.’
‘But basically,’ said Jude, ‘you are worried that Reggie might have gone to the court the night before last to meet up with his former –’ she avoided the word lover this time – ‘infatuation?’
‘That’s what I’m afraid of, yes. That’s what I’d like you to try and find out.’
‘If you don’t tell us the name of the woman who you think your husband may have been meeting,’ Carole contributed tartly, ‘you are rather hobbling any investigation we may try to make.’
‘I can see that. But I’m sorry, I can’t voice my suspicions, in case I’m wrong. It would be awful, particularly with Reggie just dead, for me to go accusing someone completely innocent. They’d think grief had really unhinged me.’
‘Mm.’ Carole Seddon sniffed. ‘Well, if you don’t give all the information you have, it is going to make our job very difficult.’
‘I’ll give you all the information of which I’m certain.’
And that was it. Carole tried pushing for more, but got nothing. Jude essayed a gentler approach, but also drew a blank. Some inbuilt sense of honour would not allow Oenone Playfair to give the name of the woman whom she suspected had caused her so much unhappiness.
‘If we do pursue the investigation you want us to,’ said Carole, ‘it’s inevitable that we’re going to be asking questions of quite a lot of the Lockleigh House club members.’
‘I can see that.’
‘And do you want us to tell them that we’re doing it on your behalf?’
Oenone Playfair winced at the idea. ‘I’d rather you didn’t . . . if you can avoid it,’ she pleaded.
‘We’ll do our best,’ said Jude.
Though Oenone wouldn’t reveal the names of the women she suspected of being loved by her husband, to all the other questions Carole and Jude asked she was extremely forthcoming.
An interesting moment occurred when Carole asked whether Oenone had noticed any differences in her husband’s behaviour recently. ‘Well, yes,’ she replied. ‘There was one thing . . .’