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The Chocolate Tin

Page 97

by Fiona McIntosh

She made a scoffing sound in the dark. ‘Matthew isn’t physical at all. At least not with me. He’s also never been angry with me before – not once in all the time I’ve known him – but he was tonight. It wasn’t so much about the fact that I’ve had a fling with someone, but he seemed to mind very much that you and I had such a connection.’

‘That’s understandable.’

She shook her head as they walked. ‘No. I don’t get it. If I follow that train of thought, it means he’d be comfortable with me having a string of affairs but I mustn’t care too deeply about one person in particular.’

‘Why don’t you get that? I suspect there are countless marriages that work under the same unwritten rules of discretion and a certain amount of distance.’

‘Not mine.’

They’d arrived into the familiar station concourse and wended their way towards the refreshment room, not saying any more until they were both seated. It was cold so Alex kept her gloves and hat on.

‘So?’ she said. ‘Here we are back again in our strange little meeting place. I’d prefer to talk about us but why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind. How long do we have?’

He glanced at his watch. ‘About thirty-five minutes.’

A woman arrived to take their order.

‘Two teas please, with milk. Thank you,’ Alex said. When the waitress departed with a nod, Alex shrugged. ‘Publicly we’re still on rations for coffee.’

She watched him take a low breath as if steeling himself. She’d only known him a few days and already she was feeling the wrench of losing him. In half an hour she would walk to the platform and wave goodbye to someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with; instead she would hug him for the last time and wish him a happy life with another woman. It hurt to think on it but she suspected it was going to hurt a lot deeper when the reality hit and she was left behind in a cloud of steam as the train chugged out of York Station and evaporated like their relationship must from tonight.

He frowned in concentration. ‘I’ve wrestled with this since I met your husband. In fact, I struggled to even look at Matthew at Betty’s for fear of revealing a notion that I didn’t feel confident to air publicly. Alex, please understand I respect people’s rights to live their lives as they choose and I especially respect everyone’s privacy. It’s why I held my tongue until I was sure.’

‘All right.’ She shrugged, baffled.

‘I’m going to start by referring you to James Feeney, whom we met today.’

‘What about him?’

‘Neither Matthew nor Mr Feeney was honest. Did you notice how uncomfortable Matthew’s companion was?’

‘I noticed him looking uncomfortably at you,’ she admitted.

‘He couldn’t get away from us fast enough, could he?’

‘He certainly seemed keen to get to his train.’

‘I wish I were mistaken, but his train was not headed to Bristol, Alex. It was headed back here . . . to York.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘So . . . what?’

‘Matthew explained that Feeney had worked for the family, made a point of telling you that he was based in Bristol and would not be able to join you for dinner, et cetera.’

‘Just being polite, surely?’

He shook his head. ‘Feeney works at your father’s club as a waiter. I saw him. I was served by him last night.’

She bit her lip. ‘Am I supposed to be deeply suspicious now?’

The tea arrived on a tray. They both gave in to a tense pause while the woman laid out the cups and saucers with the small jug of milk. ‘Sugar’s on the table,’ she gestured, unnecessarily.

‘Thank you,’ Harry replied for both of them. After she’d left them, he continued. ‘Matthew lied to your face about Feeney. Meanwhile Feeney was leaping between dagger gazes and a pleading look to me because he was so nervous I would say I recognised him from the club. He was the waiter who knew when Matthew was returning home.’

‘So you think I should challenge Matthew over his lie, about something that doesn’t concern or particularly interest me?’

He watched her carefully and sipped his tea. She read gloom in his expression, as if an internal battle were being waged behind his gaze.

‘What is it, Harry? For heaven’s sake, just say it! I doubt anything about Mr Feeney can harm me.’