Free Caught in the Act by Gemma Fox Page B

His bottom lip had started to tremble furiously. ‘Oh, Callista, I’m so terribly sorry,’ he sniffled.
    â€˜George, please don’t. How is Judy?’
    â€˜Oh, she’s well. Well, I assume she is well; we barely speak at all these days. She has her friends, her interests, the choir and the reading group, and I have mine.’ He paused. ‘It’s been a lot trickier since I retired.’
    The former Miss Callista Haze stared at George Bearman and wondered what on earth life might have been like if they had ended up together. How odd it was that she had had no idea how George felt about her, or was it that over the years she had become a fantasy that he had clung to, to keep him going inside a failing marriage? A magic might-have-been that had only just slipped through his fingers and helped him to sleep at nights.
    â€˜So,’ he said with forced joviality, ‘as you say, all water under the bridge now. Why don’t you tell me all about this Laurence chap and your girls?’
    Callista took a deep breath wondering how much she could tell George without breakinghis already battered heart, when a woman walking past the table caught her eye and as recognition dawned she stopped and turned.
    â€˜Miss Haze?’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Callista, grateful for the interruption.
    Carol grinned as she realised that Mr Bearman was there too, tucked up alongside Miss Haze, cradling a pint of bitter and the remains of a late lunch.
    The two of them were sitting at a quiet table at the back of the Master’s Arms, apparently deep in conversation. Miss Haze had a copy of Macbeth open in front of her. Even from where she was standing, Carol could see that the margins and every available glimmer of white space had been filled with tiny pencilled annotations around the main script; some appeared to have been overwritten.
    â€˜How very nice to see you,’ said Miss Haze, sounding very slightly uncertain who she was talking to.
    â€˜Carol Hastings—well, at least I used to be Carol Hastings.’ Carol held out a hand in greeting. ‘I’m here for the reunion as well.’
    â€˜Oh, of course,’ said Miss Haze. ‘It wasn’tthat I didn’t recognise you, Carol, but sometimes these days the names just vanish into the ether. I was trying very hard not to call you Lady Macbeth.’ She smiled, her handshake strong and warm and confident. ‘You know I often thought that you could have gone on to a career on the stage if you had wanted to.’
    Carol grinned. ‘That’s very nice of you to say so, but if I’m honest I think I prefer to eat,’ Carol said.
    â€˜Well, there is that,’ Miss Haze laughed, while Mr Bearman, a little stiffly, added, ‘How very pragmatic.’ His handshake was cool and dry, his skin like old vellum.
    Carol smiled. ‘You’re early too.’ She couldn’t help wondering if they had turned up together. Maybe they were a couple, married now; maybe they had got together after all.
    Miss Haze nodded. ‘Actually I haven’t been here very long. The woman in reception at Burbeck House suggested I come down here. Apparently their kitchen doesn’t open until later.’ Her smiled broadened. ‘I did wonder whether she might be on commission.’ Miss Haze glanced down at her watch. ‘Actually, I was just about to head back when—’ she glancedtowards Mr Bearman—‘when George here showed up.’
    Carol smiled; it seemed odd to think of Mr Bearman as having a first name but it had solved the couple question.
    Mr Bearman beamed warmly in Miss Haze’s direction. ‘Just like the good old days, back on the road again, eh, Callista?’ And catching hold of her hand he lifted it and pressed it to his lips. Miss Haze blushed scarlet.
    Diplomatically Carol looked away and said hastily, ‘There are a few of us in the front bar, if you would like to come and join