And so was the warmth, the humanity, the generosity of spirit and the affection, she recognised as Cressy looked at her and said vehemently, ‘Fern, I’m so glad you’re here. I still can’t believe I’m actually doing it… actually getting married. You know how I’ve always felt about that kind of commitment… how afraid I’ve always been of repeating my mother’s pattern of broken promises and broken marriages.’
‘But you do love Graham…’
‘Oh, yes.’
She said it so quietly, so simply, but with such a look of such softness and warmth on her face, that Fern felt her own heart move achingly inside her.
It wasn’t that she envied her friend her happiness… nor even her capacity to recognise it and to cherish it; it was just that looking at Cressy, listening to her, brought so sharply into focus the emptiness of her own life.
The delicate protective tissue of self-deceit and self-denial with which she had cloaked the paucity of her marriage could not withstand the force of Cressy’s almost brutal honesty.
What was Nick doing now? she wondered later as Cressy gave her a brief tour of the house coupled with an excited and enthusiastic description of the plans she and Graham had for its and their own future.
Was he pacing the house, raging against her defection, her deceit, her cowardice, or was he taking advantage of her absence to be with Venice?
She hadn’t realised how closely Cressy was watching her until she heard her friend asking quietly, ‘Fern, what is it? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s… it’s nothing. I was just thinking about Nick.’
‘But not very happily, if your expression is anything to go by,’ Cressy commented gently. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
Fern shook her head. She was here to listen to Cressy, to support her, not the other way round; but to her dismay she could feel her eyes beginning to fill with tears and she knew that Cressy had seen them as well.
‘Come on,’ Cressy insisted. ‘I want to know what’s going on.’
Unresistingly Fern let her take hold of her arm and guide her back to the spacious kitchen, a large, cluttered but very comfortable room on which Cressy had already managed to stamp her indefinable mark.
It was a room Nick would have hated, Fern acknowledged as Cressy unceremoniously swept a large pile of books off the kitchen table and pulled out one of the chairs, firmly but very kindly pushing Fern into it.
‘Now,’ she insisted, pulling out another chair for herself, ‘I want to hear all about it.’
‘There isn’t anything to tell…’ Fern began, and then, to her own shock, because it was the last thing she had intended to do, she heard herself adding quietly, ‘Nick’s having an affair.’
There was a small silenc
e, and when she looked uncertainly at her friend Fern realised that her announcement had not come as any surprise to her.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said despairingly. ‘It probably isn’t that important. These things do happen… men do have affairs… It probably doesn’t mean anything, and if I keep quiet it will probably all blow over… It’s probably all my fault anyway. I—’
‘Your fault!’ Cressy exploded, standing up and looking at her. ‘Your fault? For God’s sake, Fern, what the hell have you let him do to you? I always knew that he was a manipulative bastard, but if he’s having an affair there’s only one person responsible for him making the decision and it certainly isn’t you. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who takes her marriage more seriously than you do, or who puts more into it…’
Fern winced, but Cressy obviously didn’t notice; she was pacing the kitchen now, her eyes stormily angry as she turned round and announced grimly, ‘I know I shouldn’t say it, and I’ve always promised myself that I wouldn’t, but that husband of yours is one of, if not the most selfish and manipulative people I have ever met. Right from the moment the two of you met, he’s blinded you to reality, Fern; he’s used you and manipulated you, playing on your vulnerabilities… hurting you. Oh, yes, he has hurt you, Fern. I watched the way he deliberately took over your life, took over you, and I wanted to tell you then… to warn you… but you were so blindly in love with him…’
Fern made a small choking sound of distress and guilt.
‘Do you still love him?’ Cressy asked her fiercely.
Fern shook her head, unable even now to vocally admit the truth, the teachings of her parents and her own guilt still holding her too tightly to allow her to do so.
‘Well, thank God for that.’
As she watched, Cressy marched over to the fridge and opened it, removing a bottle of wine, which she uncorked and poured into two large glasses.
‘It may not be champagne, but…’ As she raised her own glass, she paused and stated rather than asked, ‘You are going to leave him, I hope.’
Leave him! Fern stared at her.
‘We’re married, Cressy. I made vows… gave a commitment. I…’