“Yeah. I thought that was a good sign. I didn’t want to get into anything too heavy.”
“How long did you go out with her?”
“It wasn’t like that. I mean, it wasn’t as if we were engaged or anything. She still had her boyfriend, James, and I was seeing other women… We talked mostly. Went for walks. I didn’t really think of her as my girlfriend.”
The relationship with Faye had obviously confused him. Girlfriends you took out to clubs and pubs. If they let you, you screwed them. If they didn’t, you dumped them. His friendship with Faye had been different, less clear cut. He hadn’t known how to handle it.
“But Faye did consider herself your girlfriend, didn’t she? She told James about you. And last summer she got a job in Mittingford so she could be close to you.”
“I told her not to do that,” he said. I knew it would be a mistake.”
“Cramp your style, you mean?”
“If you like!” The macho lout had returned. “I wasn’t ready to be tied down. Not to a lass like her.”
“Is that what she wanted? To be tied down?”
“Oh,” he said, “I never knew what she wanted.”
“Did your parents know that you were seeing Faye?”
“They knew I was seeing someone called Faye. They never met her.”
“Wouldn’t they have approved?”
“It wasn’t that.” It was because she wasn’t leggy and ornamental, Ramsay thought. She was pretty enough, but she would have worn the wrong clothes, given the wrong impression altogether. He would have been embarrassed to be seen out with her. “None of my friends knew,” Peter said. “They wouldn’t have understood.”
“Did Faye understand?” Ramsay asked. “Didn’t she mind being kept a secret?”
“I don’t think she realized,” Peter muttered. “She really liked me, you see.” Then, trying to be flippant, a man of the world: “Women are such romantics, aren’t they?”
“You went out with her all that summer?”
He nodded. “Not often, though. The Abbots were real slave-drivers. She didn’t have much time to herself.”
“Did she ever meet Ernie Bowles?” The question suddenly occurred to him.
“No. Not when she was with me. Why?”
Ramsay did not answer. “Did you ever consider putting an end to the relationship?” he said. “If she was such an embarrassment…”
“Of course I considered it. But I liked her. She listened. And I wasn’t sure how she’d handle it. She didn’t have anyone else. I suppose I didn’t have the guts. Besides, I knew she’d go back to college at the end of the summer. I thought it would die a natural death.”
“Instead,” Ramsay said, ‘she died a natural death.”
Peter flushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a joke. Not about that.”
Suddenly he became almost likeable.
“Tell me about her,” Ramsay said. “You must have known her better than anyone.”
Peter shrugged. He wasn’t used to putting feelings and impressions into words.
“Everything was black or white with Faye. She either loved you or hated you. She hated her stepfather. “I had to get away from that house,” she said, “or I’d have killed him.” The crowd at the Old Chapel were her heroes. She quoted them all the time: Daniel said that or Magda said this. It really got on your nerves…” He paused. He had more to say but he wasn’t sure how to put it. “She didn’t play safe,” he said. “There was no pretence. If she liked you, she said so. If she wanted something, she asked for it. There was no… protective layer between her and the world.”
He blushed again. “This must sound dead stupid. Do you know what I mean?”
Ramsay nodded. “I think so. It would have meant that she’d be easily hurt.”
“That’s why I found it so hard to tell her that I didn’t want to see her again.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“In the end.”
“What happened?”
“Like I said, I expected we’d stop seeing each other so often when she went back to Otterbridge. She’d become too demanding. I wouldn’t have minded meeting her occasionally…”
On your own terms, Ramsay thought. To have your ego massaged. To be flattered by her admiration.
“But that wasn’t enough for her. She seemed to be obsessed. She even phoned me here, begging me to go out to Otterbridge to meet her.”
“I expect she was lonely,” Ramsay said. “It must have been hard to go back to her bed sit after having had company all summer.”
“I suppose it was.” He was so self-centred that the idea had never occurred to him before. “Anyway I thought I should make a clean break of it. Tell her straight that I didn’t want to see her again.”
“When did you do that?”
“I’m not sure exactly. Not long after she left here to go back to college.”
“How did she take it?”
“She seemed all right,” he said. “Quite controlled. She didn’t burst into hysterics or anything, which is what I expected. It was a bit hard to tell because I told her on the phone. I couldn’t face a mega scene in public. At least she stopped bothering me.”
So you could forget all about her, Ramsay thought. You could go back to your mates in the rugby club and making money. And a much more suitable girlfriend.
“Then I heard she was dead,” Peter went on, bleakly.
“Who told you?”
“Mrs. Abbot phoned me. She’d never liked me but she thought I should know.”
“She didn’t blame you in any way?”
“What do you mean?”
“She didn’t suggest that Faye killed herself because of the way you’d treated her?” He realized that was cruel, but he felt vaguely that Peter deserved it.
The boy was defensive and all the bluster returned. “Of course not. I’d finished with her a couple of weeks before that. She’d had time to get over it, hadn’t she? Besides, I thought it was an accident.” He thrust his head towards Ramsay. “You can’t go around making that sort of allegation. What’s this got to do with you anyway?”
“I don’t know,” Ramsay said as he let himself out of the house. “I really don’t know.”
When he returned to the hotel most of his team were still in the bar. He hurried past the door to the stairs so no one should see him. From his room he phoned Prue. She seemed pleased to hear from him and when he replaced the receiver he was comforted, more optimistic.
Chapter Twenty-three
Early the next morning the Abbots sat over muesli and apple juice. Win was still in her nightdress, a long, shroud-like garment. She looked faded; her skin had the dusty, dried out texture of dead leaves. Daniel felt a shudder of irritation, even of disgust. He had never found her sexually attractive. Now her lethargy repulsed him. But not enough, he realized, for him to consider leaving her and risking all that they had achieved together.
The telephone rang. It was Ramsay, requesting an interview.
“I’m seeing a patient at nine,” Daniel said.
“I must see you this morning.” Ramsay was polite but emphatic.
“I could be free by eleven-thirty,” Daniel said. He replaced the receiver slowly.
“He’ll want to talk about Faye,” Win said. She looked at him anxiously.
“Of course…” He paused. “I wonder who’s stirring up trouble after all this time.”
He spooned yoghurt on to his muesli and said, as if he were changing the subject completely: “Do you think Lily would have the boys this afternoon?”
“I expect so. I think it’s her afternoon off. Now they’re staying in the house I could phone and ask.” Win faced him uncertainly across the breakfast table. He realized she was frightened of him and felt an exhilarating rush of energy.
“I was wondering if you’d go to see the lad, James. To express our sympathy. Someone from the Centre should do it and I’m busy.”
“I don’t know,” she said quickly. “Surely he won’t want to see us.”