Pride and Avarice

by Nicholas Coleridge

  The plates from the first course were being cleared away, when the roar of an engine turning over began drifting up the valley, followed by the clatter of rotor blades.

  ‘Good heavens, whatever’s that?’ Miles said to Laetitia, apologetically.

  Then, slowly and steadily, a helicopter ascended from the Cleggs’ lawn and hovered above the house at the end of the valley. It was small, black and very sleek, with a glass bubble of a cockpit, and a black and gold fuselage.

  ‘We all know who that is,’ Laetitia announced. ‘Dawn was telling me yesterday Ross has just bought one.’

  ‘That helicopter belongs to the Cleggs?’ Miles stared at it, stupefied with envy.

  ‘He’s been taking lessons for months. Didn’t you know? He spent a fortnight at that marvellous place in Utah doing an intensive course. And now he’s got his certificate.’

  The helicopter accelerated a thousand yards up the valley—over Miles’s land—then rose up above the horse chestnut trees and disappeared from view. All Miles could think was that the marquee must have been wonderfully visible from up there, and hoped Ross felt snubbed.

  Laetitia was saying, ‘He’s going to find it invaluable. He’ll wonder how he ever managed without one. He’ll be able to visit lots of his stores in a day, and of course it’ll be a godsend for travelling to and fro from this amazing Coventry warehouse he’s built.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Miles. ‘The so-called logistics centre. I gather it’s a terrible flop.’

  ‘How interesting you should say that. You must tell James. You see, I know Pendletons are planning on using it for some of their own distribution. James has heard wonderful reports.’

  38.

  Miles was spoiling for a scrap, and knew who he was going to take it out on. The image of Ross’s helicopter rising above the valley replayed in his head, until the entire afternoon was reduced to that single devastating moment. To make matters worse, all his guests had been excited by it and spoke of little else, impressed by Ross and his ability to fly himself. ‘They’re such an asset to the area, Ross and Dawn,’ Laetitia declared. ‘Completely unpretentious and natural.’

  Miles felt obliged to agree, though he couldn’t see what was unpretentious about owning a helicopter.

  At last, the final lunch guests were expelled from the house, leaving only the caterers packing up plates and wine glasses. Without telling anyone, Miles slipped into his Jensen and drove in the direction of the Mountleighs. Two miles before their drive, he turned off onto a rough track leading between wheat fields to a deserted farmyard. Here, shielded by cowsheds and a grain dryer, was the secluded meeting point he used for rendezvous with Serena. When they hooked up for their illicit hotel jaunts, it was here in the farmyard Serena parked her Ford Fiesta and transferred into Miles’s sports car. If they needed to talk, it was a simple matter for Serena to dodge in here, on her way to and from the shops.

  As he swept into the farm yard, Miles saw Serena had arrived before him. Good: he had hoped from the tone of his voice she’d have got the message and jumped to it.

  ‘Serena, get in this car.’ He was peremptory. ‘We’re going for a drive.’

  He pulled onto the dual carriageway and accelerated at full throttle. In a four-mile stretch of road he shot through two Gatso speed cameras, activating flashes in his rear mirror. Long ago, he had arranged for his cars to be registered at the Paris offices of Straker Communications, where all speeding letters were ignored. It was one of Miles’s precepts that speed limits did not apply to people like himself.

  ‘This has gone on long enough,’ he said to Serena. ‘It’s got to stop.’

  Imagining he meant their affair, she replied, ‘I don’t see why. Nobody’s found out, have they?’

  ‘I mean the business with the Cleggs. You working for them.’

  ‘Oh no, Miles, not this again. We’ve discussed this so many times.’

  ‘The discussion’s over. I forbid it, and that’s final. I insist you tell them you can’t work for them, not at Chawbury, not in Holland Park Square. Is that understood?’

  ‘Miles, you’re being so silly …’

  ‘Serena, read my lips: You are resigning from those jobs. Now. Today. I want you to ring Dawn—or Ross, I don’t care which—from this car, on your mobile, in front of me. I’m not prepared to tolerate prevarication.’

  ‘But Miles … the job’s two thirds done. I can’t just walk out. But I promise not to take on anything else.’

  ‘You’re not listening. I’ve asked you to call them.’ Jerking the steering wheel, he swerved between two articulated lorries into a lay-by and switched off the ignition.

  ‘Miles, you realise this is ridiculous. All of it. This perpetual rivalry with Ross.’

  ‘It’s not rivalry. How dare you call it rivalry? I hardly see myself in competition with the limping price-cutter, thank you very much.’

  ‘Yes, you are. That’s why you’re being like this. It was the helicopter.’

  ‘Rubbish. Anyway, the choice is yours. The phone’s right there. I’m sure you know the number. Come on, I’m waiting.’

  Attempting to diffuse the atmosphere, she draped her arm around his shoulder and stroked his hair, but Miles shook her off. ‘I’m waiting.’

  ‘Because they’ve bought a bigger house than you in London. The house and the helicopter. That’s what this is all about.’

  ‘I’m waiting.’

  ‘Well, wait as long as you like. I’m not making the call.’

  ‘Get out then. Go on, get out of this car.’

  She hesitated, so he leant across her and opened the passenger door from inside. ‘Make the call or get out.’

  She stepped out into the lay-by, saying, ‘You’re pathetic. You do realise that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Miles. ‘It was nice knowing you too. Please close the door behind you.’ Then he accelerated across the potholed tarmac and back onto the road.

  Serena stood in the lay-by, buffeted by the tailwind of passing traffic, and wondered what to do. Her car was parked in the farmyard eight miles away, and she wasn’t sure how she’d explain it to Robin, if she rang him to collect her. She felt desolate at the quarrel and furious with Miles; she’d had it with his arrogance and determined to end the whole thing. At the same time, the prospect of life with Robin, without the treats and adventures Miles provided, was wretched. At the end of the lay-by was a food van selling snacks and drinks, and she picked her way along and bought a cup of tea.

  She was standing there, feeling miserable, when a black Cherokee jeep pulled up in front of her. ‘Serena? It is you. I thought so. I spotted you as I drove past and said, “That’s our Serena.” ’ Ross was beaming at her through the open window. ‘Not your usual style of place is it, the roadside caff? Not where you take Dawn anyway.’

  Ross said he was driving back to Chawbury from Coventry, having collected his car, and did she need a lift anywhere. ‘What have you done with your wheels, Serena? You never hitched here?’

  Soon she was heading in the direction of her car in the comfort of Ross’s jeep, and as usual thinking what an attractive and straightforward guy he was, so different from Miles’s tricksiness. Slowly, she found herself telling him something about the quarrel with Miles, and how he had abandoned her in the lay-by. She realised their affair was horribly implicit in the story, and felt embarrassed about that.

  ‘I never realised you and Miles were such mates,’ Ross said diplomatically. ‘That had somehow passed me by.’

  ‘He didn’t want anyone knowing. Nobody does.’

  ‘Poor Davina,’ said Ross. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean that as a criticism of you, love. It’s only that Davina and Dawn are so friendly, that’s all.’ Then he asked, ‘What were you and Miles barneying about anyway, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  Serena laughed. ‘About you mostly.’ She stared out of the window.

  Ross looked surprised. ‘About me? Why?’

  ‘He’s jealous of you, not that he
admits it.’

  ‘You’re kidding me.’

  ‘Be careful of him,’ Serena said. Then she told him how annoyed Miles was when the Cleggs bought their house on Holland Park Square, which was bigger than his own.

  ‘I’m gobsmacked,’ Ross said. ‘There’s no other word for it.’ He seemed genuinely surprised, and Serena found his naivety attractive.

  ‘You’ve no idea how obsessed he is about you. I’ve had dinners where all he’s done is talk about you.’ She began to cry. ‘It’s not surprising he’s jealous,’ Serena sniffed, ‘because you’ve done so well, Ross. Everyone says so.’

  ‘Nice of you to say so,’ Ross replied. ‘Mostly it just feels like slog and grind.’

  Her arm brushed against the back of his neck and his hair was short and bristly, like stroking a clothes brush, quite different from Miles’s silky mane. ‘I’ve always admired you, Ross. You know that, don’t you?’

  Ross felt an unexpected surge of sexual frisson. The fact was, it was several years since he’d felt anything very strong for Dawn. What with his punishing work schedule, early starts and late hours, and Dawn being so occupied with her horses, builders and committees, Ross sometimes felt their lives had diverged. Serena was the sort of woman he’s always considered out of his league. But here she was, crying all over him.

  They arrived at the farmyard where Serena had left her car. Serena said, ‘Ross, I sometimes need to be in London on Monday nights. I know Dawn is usually still in Chawbury on Mondays. So if you ever need company …’ Her hand pressed on his thigh, he felt her warm breath on his cheek.

  ‘You know something,’ he said at last. ‘I think we’d best not. Dawn and me, we go back a long, long way.’ And with that, he opened the car door and walked round to the passenger side and let her out.

  Serena gave him a lingering look, full of implicit sexuality, and said, ‘Sure I can’t change your mind?’

  ‘Quite sure, love. Sorry.’

  As he drove off, he said, ‘Dammit, dammit,’ loudly under his breath. And that night, unable to sleep, he stared up the valley at the lights from the Strakers’ house and tried to come to terms with everything Serena had told him.

  39.

  Early that February, and little more than eight months behind schedule, Ross and Dawn’s new home in Holland Park Square was ready for occupation. Having known it as a wreck for so long, and remembering the walls stripped back to their brickwork and the basement floors exposed to bare earth, Dawn could hardly believe the speed with which the final stages came together. Under Serena’s direction, carpets were laid over a weekend, and curtains and sofas appeared from the curtain-makers and upholsterers and were delivered to their designated rooms. Tall bookcases had been built off-site and now arrived in bubble wrap, and stood like giant bare sentry boxes on either side of the study fireplace. It worried Dawn they had so few books to fill the shelves, so she placed the telephone on one shelf, and well-spaced ornaments on another, and some of the free estate agents magazines that fell through the letter box on another. She made a mental note to go to an art bookshop at the earliest opportunity and buy a lot of white-spined art volumes like James and Laetita had, to fill them up.

  Once everything was installed, Dawn was delighted by the effect. The house was everything she had wished for, and she had to pinch herself to believe it was really hers. With Serena’s eye, it looked more like the Pendletons’s home than their own. Gazing around at the subtle sofa covers and cushions, the abstract paintings Serena had helped buy in Cork Street, and the elegant bronze statues dotted on every surface, she perched herself on the edge of a sofa so as not to crease it, and emitted a sigh of contentment. Now, at last, her grown-up life could begin. At last, she had a home in which to receive friends, and the people she envisaged becoming her friends in the future. She had a vision of herself as patron of the arts, receiving fellow connoisseurs in this room. And, above anything, she could repay James and Laetitia for all their hospitality. She had frequently promised Laetitia they would be the first guests through the front door.

  Ross moved into the new house from Roupell Street, crossing London with his knocked-about suitcases and sports bags, which Dawn felt looked very shabby plonked down in the new hall. Having invested so much time and thought to create her perfect home, she recoiled at any intrusion of real life, such as Ross’s paste-encrusted toothbrush and toiletries on the pristine vanity units. Greg came for supper in the new kitchen and declared it ‘obscene’ such an enormous mansion should be lived in by only a few part-time inhabitants, his parents and siblings. ‘It’s too big to be a private home. The local authority should take it over as a refuge for abused women or something,’ he said, blithely unaware of its former use. Dawn decided not to mention Gemma wouldn’t actually be living with them at the house, having elected to take over Roupell Street after her dad moved out. As Mandy approached her fourth birthday, it seemed the right moment for Gemma to resume life and move up to town. Gemma hoped to find a job, having taken a typing and computer skills sandwich course. Ross and Dawn both felt it was time she got her teeth stuck into something; she was still so young, and couldn’t live down in Chawbury as a single mum forever. Dawn also realised her own ambitious life plans would hardly be enhanced by having Gemma and Mandy underfoot, much as she loved them, so the idea of retaining Roupell Street as Gemma’s London base made every kind of sense.

  Dick had been in Zurich for three days working on a deal, and rang to say he would be flying to New York that evening. He would drop in to Eaton Square around three o’clock to switch suitcases and hoped Sam would be there since he needed a word. He then asked to be put through to Lila, the Thai maid, to brief her on his packing requirements.

  Sam was doubly put out by the call. She felt grumpy with Dick. For one thing, he had been travelling for weeks and she was bored and lonely alone at the flat, and feeling ignored. He was such an enormous figure that life felt flat in his absences. Moreover, she had intended to go round to Gaz’s place that afternoon and hang out there, but now she had to wait home for Dick. She switched on the television—God, she watched a lot of television these days—and Lila brought in a percolator of coffee on a tray.

  At ten past four there was a commotion in the hall, with Dick’s driver carrying his luggage and briefcases from the lift, and Dick exploding into the drawing room in a double-breasted overcoat with further attaché cases in each hand. ‘Je-sus,’ he said. ‘There was a fucking queue to land at Northolt. We had to circle for twenty-five minutes. Might as well fly commercial.’

  Sam was stirring herself to greet him when she noticed the other woman slipping into the room, looking awkward and embarrassed. She was older than Sam, maybe thirty-two, and carrying what looked like the new Fendi handbag, the one Sam herself coveted.

  Sam looked at her quizzically, then at Dick.

  ‘Ah, yes. This is Delphine. Delphine, this is Samantha Straker, who I’ve told you about.’

  Delphine smiled and held on to Dick’s arm. Sam noticed the driver had left two pieces of Delphine’s logo-embossed luggage by the door.

  ‘Dick, is there something I should know?’

  Dick lit up a small cigar. ‘I do need a word actually, Sam. Delphine, would you mind giving us a moment, darling? Need a bit of privacy with Sam, if you don’t mind.’ He watched her leave, waiting until the door closed behind her.

  ‘Thing is, Sam, to put it bluntly, it’s time for a bit of a changing of the guard. Hope you understand, sure you do, being a grown-up girl. But, you see, Dephine and I … no easy way to say this frankly, but we’ve become a bit of an item over the past couple of weeks, which presents us with rather a problem with our own situation. Past situation, I should say.’

  ‘You and Delphine?’

  ‘She’s a spunky lady, used to be married to a good mate of mine in fact. Known her for years, not like now of course.’

  ‘So … you’re saying we’re over?’

  ‘Well, only in that way, darlin’. Can’t run
two birds in tandem, not right. Unbreakable rule. But hope you’ll come and stay on the boat next summer as usual. Always fun on the boat. Crew will be awfully disappointed if you aren’t there.’

  Sam felt numb at the speed of it all; one minute she was Dick Gunn’s woman, the next she wasn’t.

  ‘Tell you what,’ Dick said. ‘Don’t feel under pressure to clear out today or tomorrow. No gun to your head, forgive the pun. I’ve told Lila you’re moving on and she’s going to take care of your packing, everything like that, so no need to bother about anything. I’m away till the end of the week, so take your time, you can stay until Thursday.’

  Mollie just stood there, unable to respond to the compliments coming from all sides. She felt only relief it was over and nothing had gone wrong. Her headmaster was shaking her by the hand saying what a grand job she’d done, and so was the local community outreach officer. Across the room she spotted Laetitia and Dawn and she had to go over and thank them, since it was all due to them the performance had happened at all. And of course she had to go backstage and thank the performers, who had donated their time and talent. So many people had been sceptical about the initiative, predicting La Traviata would go way above the audience’s head, but the kids loved it. You could see it in their faces. Only a minority had been disruptive, and you had to expect that. Verdi was a challenging new experience for them all.

  It had required so much effort to pull it off, but Mollie now knew it had been worth it. She’d had several meetings with Laetitia, then with the Pendletons’s sponsorship people who had generously put up most of the funding, and meetings with the local education authority some of whom had questioned whether opera wasn’t too elitist for a multi-cultural audience. But Mollie stood her ground. She had sat in the front row tonight with two little Ghanaian kids on either side of her, and watched their rapt attention at every aria. Her one regret was that her parents hadn’t been able to make it. Miles had promised to try his best, but a client dinner shifted at the last minute and he’d had to go to Mosimann’s with some big cheeses from Fiat, and insisted Davina accompany him.