Free Forbidden by Roberta Latow

affair had left her too damaged for love, the commitment of a long-term relationship. That life she lived long before they met her, that life she rarely spoke about, had caught up with her.
    ‘The other man, Amy. That’s the real story, isn’t it? Do tell.’
    The women were surprised and somewhat embarrassed to see the colour drain from Amy’s face. Embarrassed for her, that she had been caught out; embarrassed for themselves for having been so prying and the cause of some anxiety about the other man in that long-ago love story: Pete Smith.
    ‘What a clod you are, Frances,’ snapped Amanda.
    Amy felt cold, her mouth suddenly dry. Frances had given her a fright. The real story? The other man? Those two things had been long forgotten, dealt with emotionally a long time ago. But what they conjured up now was that dream she had had less than a fortnight ago. It flashed through her mind and unnerved her in the same way as she had been unnerved upon awakening from it. A dream of Jarret Sparrow? The arrival of Pete Smith? None of it made sense. What had those two things to do with her life? She took a sip of the hot coffee and a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a second and took another deep breath, sighing slowly, becoming more calm. Or was it a sigh of resignation? When she opened her eyes the anxiety her friends had seen in them only moments before was gone.
    Everyone at the table looked relieved. For a short time something unpleasant had settled over the women and they were all glad it was gone. Frances, Karen and Amanda were further relieved when they saw a smile on Amy’s still pale face.
    ‘No, she’s not a clod, Amanda. What she said didn’tupset me in the least. What it did was to remind me of a most unpleasant dream I had some days ago, and that
did
upset me. Now it’s passed and I’m all right. It was a dream about that other man – of whom, by the way, I have no intention of telling you the least little thing! He’s a man I haven’t thought about any more than I have of Peter these last twenty odd years, and no one I care to talk about. The only thing I will say is that to dream of one and have the other arrive is odd indeed. Now can we leave it at that?’
    The women didn’t mind dropping the subject. Each of them had had in their time some man they didn’t want to bring back into their life, even in conversation. They understood, but that understanding was not enough for them to continue their lunch in the same easy way in which it had begun.
    Amy was driving. All the way home she and Amanda spoke about any number of things, anything and everything except the hiccup at lunch which had so upset her. When Amy drove through the gates of the Whatelys’ house and up the drive she was holding her breath, just praying that Amanda would not at the last minute bring up the incident.
    They had, since it was a bright sunny day and still unusually warm weather, driven to London in the open Lagonda. Amanda wore a sable and knit jacket, and a hat with a scarf over it tied under her chin. Amy had her usual white silk scarf covering her hair and one of Charles’s gifts wrapped round her: a 1920s full-length jaguar coat in fabulously good condition. There wasbesides the Lagonda’s super hot heater to keep them warm. Now, with Amy still in the driver’s seat and the motor running, Amanda was out of the car and reaching into the back seat for her shopping: Harvey Nichols, Harrods, The White House, The General Trading Company. Bags of it. Amy felt relieved, now that they had made it home, that the subject of Peter and Jarret was closed.
    It would have been had not Dick Whately come out to greet his wife and help with the shopping. He greeted Amy with a kiss and then, walking towards Amanda, said, ‘Had a nice day, ladies? Well, I can see you did, Amanda.’ Then, gathering all of her shopping from the boot and the back seat of the car, Dick laughed and teased the women, ‘Just a normal girls’ day out! Amanda