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A Question of Guilt(19)

By:Janet Tanner


‘I’m sorry, Sally, but there’s someone else.’

Still it shocked me. Tim had someone else!

‘Oh!’ I said stupidly.

‘I met her through work and things have . . . developed.’

For a moment I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Then something inside me exploded.

‘A trolley dolly, I suppose.’ I was astonished by how hurt I felt – hurt enough to refer to an air stewardess by such a derogatory term.

‘Actually, no. She’s my first officer,’ Tim said, almost apologetically.

That took the wind out of my sails all over again, but of course, it made perfect sense. Women weren’t only flight attendants now, they were also pilots. And I could just picture the scene – Tim in the left-hand seat, some glamour girl with gold braid on the shoulders of her uniform in the right, cocooned together in a cramped cockpit for hours on end. And then the two of them wheeling their suitcases through customs together, being bussed to the same hotel for overnight stays, sharing a meal and a drink – no, not a drink; eight hours between bottle and throttle was the golden rule. But getting very cosy, nonetheless.

‘How long has this been going on?’ I asked tightly.

Tim shrugged. ‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes, actually.’

And it did! Had Tim been seeing her when we were still together? When I was in hospital and he was visiting me, pretending concern? Was she the reason he’d been so ready to suggest I should come home to Stoke Compton to convalesce when I was discharged? Had she moved in with Tim? Was she sleeping in the bed we had shared? It mattered a great deal. And explained a whole lot more.

‘I met her last summer,’ Tim said.

‘So she’s the reason you haven’t been able to find the time to come and see me. And there was I believing you when you said you just couldn’t fit me into your busy schedule. I suppose she’s the reason you wanted me out of the flat, too.’

Tim said nothing, and I knew I’d hit the nail on the head.

‘What a fool I’ve been!’ I said bitterly. ‘Making excuses for you to everyone. Even to myself. I knew things weren’t good between us, but I never imagined you were cheating on me . . . well, not to this extent . . . How could you do it, Tim? How could you just string me along? And don’t say it’s because you felt sorry for me, please. Because that would just be adding insult to injury.’

From the way Tim’s mouth opened and closed I knew he’d been on the point of saying exactly that.

‘You bastard,’ I said softly. My hands were tightly clenched on my knees because what I really wanted to do was hit him.

‘We didn’t get seriously involved until a couple of months ago,’ he said lamely.

‘And that makes it all right?’

‘Well, no, but . . . I’ve said I’m sorry, Sally, and I am.’

I shook my head, laughed without humour.

‘You know what is so funny about this? I was actually going to tell you that I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be with you any more, and I was worried about doing it. Worried about hurting you. Well, more fool me.’

‘You’ve met someone else?’ Tim looked, and sounded, as shocked as I had felt a few minutes ago.

‘Hardly,’ I said dryly. ‘But if I had I’d never have done this to you. I’d never have crept about behind your back, lied to you, cheated on you . . .’

The look of relief on his face was so palpable I had to once again restrain the urge to hit him. The conceit of him! He couldn’t bear the thought that I might have actually decided that I preferred to be with someone other than him – his ego simply couldn’t stand it. What on earth had I ever seen in him?

‘So,’ I said, getting my temper under control. ‘I suppose the reason you’re coming clean now is that you want to set up home with this . . . woman.’

Tim had the grace to look a bit shamefaced.

‘Well . . . yes.’

‘And you want me out of the flat. Permanently.’

‘Oh, good gracious, no! I wouldn’t expect you to leave, Sally. The plan is for me to move in with Paula. She has a cottage in Winton – very convenient for the airport. But don’t worry, I’ll pay my whack of the rent on the flat until you can find someone else to share with you, or are in a position to afford it yourself.’

‘Well thanks, but I couldn’t possibly accept it,’ I said stiffly, my pride kicking in.

‘I insist. I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch while you’re incapacitated.’

‘Hopefully that won’t be for much longer. I mean it, Tim – I don’t want your money.’