Chapter 4

Some weeks later Henrietta dropped round. As usual she was polite but distant to Wendy. It was Tim who made them both a mug of coffee which they took through to the drawing room.

After some desultory chit-chat Henrietta asked, "Tim would you come to dinner on Friday evening? Arthur's developed a bee in his bonnet about the decline in sparrows."

"There are plenty round here," responded Tim. "House and hedge but I have read that overall they're in decline."

"Same with us but, as I say, Arthur's got a bee and has invited some woman, Harriet West who's a Green, not RSPB (Royal Society For The Protection Of Birds) but something else, to dinner and for the night. I need someone to make up numbers. It'll probably be excruciatingly boring but would you?"

Tim smiled. "Of course and thank you," he replied. "I'm no expert but I do know a bit about birds and have a theory about hedge sparrows but not a clue about house ones."

"Thank you, Tim. Between us we may be able to steer the conversation away from green into red, white and blue."

"That sounds like politics!"

"Tim! You know what I mean."

"There'll always be an England," sang Tim.

"Oh, shut up!" Henrietta laughed. "Seven thirty for eight and don't dress up."

"Yes, ma'am. Smart casual whatever that means."

Henrietta laughed again. "Old fart! Sports jacket or blazer and tie."

"But not the old school tie."

"Oh, shut up! Again!"

Tim grinned unrepentantly and Henrietta had to laugh.

"If you're on this form," she said, "it might turn out to be quite a fun evening."

She left shortly afterwards and that thought was still on her mind. Tim, quite understandably, had been far from his usual self for six months after Jane's death but had now perked up considerably.

"Is it that Wendy?" Henrietta wondered. "Surely not. She's a nice enough girl but the same age as Erica and from an appalling background, if only because her son killed Jane. Can't be."

She was not convinced though and the thought continued to go round in her head.

She had completely misread Tim. Certainly he liked Wendy. She was amusing, hard working, friendly and caring. She was pretty too now but the thought of intimacy with her or indeed anyone had never occurred to Tim. He was Jane's husband and would remain faithful to her.

"You weren't born and bred in Gloucester, were you?" he asked Wendy over dinner in the kitchen one evening. "You've got a country burr."

Wendy smiled. "No," she answered. "My father is a farmer and it was one of his farmhands that got me pregnant. Dad sacked him which meant he wasn't going to stick by me and then Dad wanted to put me in a convent. I wasn't going to have that so did a runner to Gloucester. I stayed with a friend until I got the council flat and I only got that because I was pregnant. Mum stuck by me and used to slip me a bit of cash now and again and so I got by."

"Are you still in touch with your mother?"

Wendy shook her head. "Died of cancer five years ago."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "After Rick was at primary school she pretty well got out of my life. I'd got a job and she didn't want to go on upsetting Dad."

"Oh Lord," Tim said quietly. "That must have been miserable for you."

Wendy shrugged and then smiled. "I'm happy now though, very happy."

Tim smiled back. "Good."

The dinner party was nowhere near as dire as Henrietta had predicted. Harriet West was no beauty but happily and amusingly joined in the general conversation. Tim liked her. Arthur said little as usual but over coffee turned the conversation to sparrows.

"Tim dear, would you give me a hand clearing away while these two talk business," Henrietta asked. Tim happily obliged and they quickly cleared the table.

Together they fed the dishwasher and then Henrietta set about washing the glass and the pans while Tim dried.

"Well, I like Harriet," said Tim.

"So do I but I could have kicked Arthur."

"Why?"

"Oh, he did all his duties with drinks and wine but then offered nothing."

"He's not a great conversationalist at the best of times," observed Tim and chuckled to take the sting out of his comment.

"No but it was a sulky silence. Harriet was his guest and we pinched her."

Tim said nothing. He thought it the wiser option.

"I really am fed up with him. We do nothing together. As long as he's fed and watered that's it. He shows no interest in anything I do and, I have to admit, I'm not much interested in anything he does."

"I'm sorry."

Henrietta moved closer and looked up at him with the hint of tears in her eyes. "I just don't know what to do." She bit her lip and then fell against him and started to cry.

Tim's response was reflex. He put his arms round her. Hers went round him and she pulled herself against him.

Tim was torn. He wanted to be a comfort to Henrietta but he did not want her to misconstrue his reaction or even worse for Arthur to walk in on them. He gently but firmly prised her off him.

"I can't really help you," he said gently. "It's something that only you and Arthur can sort out together."

"Not a hope," spat Henrietta. "He won't have any discussion or try to improve things. He'll put it down to 'emotional women' and go off and do his own thing."

Tim looked at her sadly.

"Um ... Tim? Would you be prepared to spend some time with me? You know, just the two of us together having some fun."

"No, Henrietta. Fond of you as I am and grateful to you too, I'm not ready for anything like that particularly with a married woman however unhappy she might be. That would be asking for trouble."

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes hardening. "I wasn't suggesting sex," she spat.

"Nor was I," replied Tim calmly and gently. "It's what other people and your husband might infer though. Henrietta, I think I should go now which will give you a chance to freshen up. Tell the other two I didn't want to disturb their discussion. Don't worry. I'll let myself out."