A Fatal Attachment by Robert Barnard Page A

idea to marry a cousin,” she said at last dismissively. “Royal families did it all too often. It weakened them in the long run. Much more sensible to seek out new blood.”
    Jamie nodded.
    â€œAs I gather Thea and Andy’s boy has done,” he said. “Do you see a lot of them?”
    â€œMaurice and his wife? Oh no, of course not. He’s with Midlands Television—lives in Birmingham of all places.”
    â€œI meant Thea and Andy.”
    â€œOf course,” Lydia lied. “They’re here in the village. We see each other all the time.”
    â€œI must go down and call on them before long. I always thought Thea was the best of us.”
    â€œThe best of us?”
    â€œThe kindest, nicest, most understanding.”
    â€œWell . . . perhaps you’re right.”
    Lydia was reluctant to acknowledge Thea’s moral stature, still more reluctant to acknowledge Jamie’s right to make confident judgments. There was something more . . . more independent about Jamie now, and it disoriented Lydia. She was reminded of Robert more strongly than at any time since she had decided to marry him as second best.
    â€œThere was one other thing, Lydia.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI’m thinking of getting married again.”
    â€œReally?” She wanted to say something cutting about him really courting failure, but she refrained, “I hope you’ll be happy this time,” she said.
    Jamie dipped his head in acknowledgement.
    â€œShe’s a lovely person. She’s been a social worker in Sheffield for nearly twenty years—not the easiest of jobs. Finally it just got on top of her and she had to get away. She has the village shop and post office in Kedgely.”
    My successor is a failed social worker and a postmistress, thought Lydia. All her old contempt returned. How pathetic Jamie always was! How small-scale his hopes and ambitions! And even in them he has failed. It humiliated her to think she had been married to him. It humiliated her to think of the sortof woman he was to marry next. It seemed to equate Lydia with her. And it would equate them in the minds of everyone in the district.
    â€œAnd when will it take place, this marriage?” she asked.
    â€œOh, nothing’s decided yet. Mary’s been married before too, so she doesn’t want to rush into it.”
    â€œYou’re just ‘keeping company’?”
    Lydia used the servant-girl expression with relish, but Jamie was unoffended. He smiled.
    â€œThat’s pretty much it at the moment. Naturally we neither of us have a lot of spare time to spend with each other. But we’re sort of feeling our way.”
    â€œHow nice . . . but there was no need for you to tell me all this, you know, It’s none of my business.”
    â€œAnd we’re nothing to each other, as you said. Oh quite.” Jamie got up. “Still these things are always a bit disconcerting when you hear them from strangers, aren’t they? That’s why I wanted to tell you myself.”
    â€œYes, I suppose that’s true,” admitted Lydia.
    â€œYou’ve never thought of getting married again yourself?”
    â€œNo! Good heavens, no! I’ve had the fullest of lives without it. In fact, I’m always mystified by people—filmstars and suchlike—who get married over and over again. One can learn from experience, but it seems they never do.”
    If Jamie registered that this speech was intended to hold a message for him, he gave no sign. Lydia led the way out of the sitting room and to the front door. The interview, her stance implied, was over.
    â€œAnd you’ve made a very satisfactory career for yourself, then, Lydia?” Jamie said, small-talking as he walked out of the house.
    â€œVery satisfying, at any rate.”
    â€œAnd a nationally known name.”
    â€œOh—” she gestured dismissively.
    â€œBut we did