‘Yes. Very tough. Sent off to that awful school when she was only nine – Janet dear, this is wonderful cake –’
‘Glad you like it. I thought everyone would be hungry when we got back after the wedding. Oh dear –’
‘Yes, well, we’re all hungry before it,’ said Rufus cheerfully. ‘So it hasn’t been wasted. Yes, I’d forgotten Harriet was sent away. Didn’t last long though, did it? Merlin rescued her, like a real wizard.’
‘Yes, but if he hadn’t … And I always thought it was so unfair that Cressida was allowed to stay at home. Still, Harriet always says now it was the making of her –’
‘It probably was,’ said Rufus. ‘Look at all of us. Stuff the British Empire was made of –’ He winked at Tilly.
‘Rufus darling, you know perfectly well none of you went away until you were thirteen. And Tom hasn’t gone at all.’
‘Yes, well, you spoil him. Your baby.’
‘I do not,’ said Susie serenely. ‘I don’t spoil any of you. Never have.’
‘Maggie says you always spoiled me,’ said Rufus. ‘She said it at lunch yesterday, didn’t you hear her?’
‘Oh really?’ For the first time she seemed less relaxed. ‘I don’t see that Maggie is in any position to know such a thing. Or to make such a judgment.’
‘You know Maggie,’ said Janet Beaumont, taking a second slice of cake. ‘So tactless. Always speaks her mind. I do feel rather sorry for her though,’ she added. ‘She doesn’t have an easy time.’
‘She seems to have quite an easy time to me,’ said Susie briskly. ‘Neither of the girls at home, Jamie in London half the week, plenty of help – oh I know she’s had the wedding to do, but –’
‘Well I wouldn’t like to be married to James Forrest,’ said Janet.
‘Really? Why not specially?’ Susie’s dark eyes were very brilliant suddenly. Now why should that be, thought Tilly, what is he to her? (feeling her own flesh crawl, her pulse quicken at the name).
‘He’s such a demanding creature. Everything in the house has to be perfect. Maggie was telling me he threw a terrific wobbly a couple of weeks ago because she still hadn’t got the drawing-room carpet and curtains cleaned.’
‘Doesn’t sound too unreasonable to me,’ said Susie lightly.
‘I know, but there’s always something. She has to run around after him, seeing to his clothes like some sort of valet. And you know how vain he is –’
‘Is he?’ said Rufus. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Oh terribly. Mike teases him about it sometimes. That’s my husband,’ she added to Tilly.
‘Yes, well no one could call Mike vain,’ said Susie laughing. ‘I doubt if he even knows where a single mirror is in this house. Alistair’s quite vain as a matter of fact. If you call fussing about clothes vain. Still, I don’t think Jamie’s all that bad to live with. He’s very good and supportive to Maggie, and frightfully good-tempered really –’
‘Yes, well, you always see the best in people, and anyway he’s got a bit of a soft spot for you,’ said Janet winking at her.
‘Rubbish!’ said Susie cheerfully. ‘No more than for any other pretty lady. Oh, there’s Harriet’s car now. Rufus, go and bring her in, give her a cup of tea.’
Tilly was sorry Harriet had arrived so soon; she could have sat listening to stories about James Forrest for a very long time.
Harriet came into the kitchen looking tired; she smiled round the table at them, and then went over and hugged Tilly.
‘It’s lovely to see you,’ she said, ‘thank you so much for coming.’
‘Lovely to see you too,’ said Tilly. She hadn’t seen Harriet for three or four weeks; she looked terrible.
‘How’s your mother, Harriet dear?’ asked Janet Beaumont, passing Harriet another cracked mug.
‘Pretty bad,’ said Harriet carefully. ‘But Janine is doing wonders with her. I’ve told you about Janine, haven’t I?’ she said to Tilly. ‘My wonderful French fairy godmother.’
‘I thought she was Cressida’s godmother,’ said Janet.
‘She is, her real one. But she and I have this secret code. She’s always been so good to me. Don’t tell Mummy for heaven’s sake,’ she added.
‘No of course not.’
Maggie Forrest seemed to need a great deal of protection from life, Tilly thought; she wondered why.
‘Anyway, there’s some news about Cressida. Extraordinary news. No, she hasn’t been found, but her car has. Somewhere in Essex, of all places. And, even more peculiar, she’s got a pilot’s licence. Nobody had the faintest idea. And she took a little plane from her flying school this morning, really early, and hasn’t come back –’
‘Good God,’ said Susie, staring at her. ‘Cressida! I can’t believe she’s capable of it. Not just learning to fly, but doing something like this. It’s so calculated and – and tough, somehow. She’s always seemed so sweet and – well, helpless. And what on earth is she doing taking flying lessons in Essex? It’s such a long way away.’
‘I know, I know,’ said Harriet wearily. ‘Anyway, Daddy’s phoning round every little airport, and big one for that matter, in the country …’
‘And abroad, presumably?’ said Rufus.
‘Yes. We thought at first she couldn’t have gone abroad.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because Oliver’s got her passport. Ready for going to Mexico today. But apparently she’s got one of those post office jobs – the vicar saw her getting it.’
‘Good God,’ said Rufus. ‘How absolutely extraordinary. You’ve spoken to Oliver presumably about this?’
‘Yes. Yes of course. He had no idea she could fly. No idea at all. He’s – well, he’s very shocked.’
‘Let’s get over there,’ said Rufus, standing up, taking Tilly’s hand. ‘Are you coming, Harriet?’
‘Oh – are you going already? I was hoping to talk to Tilly.’
‘You can talk to Tilly later,’ said Rufus. ‘I honestly think we should go and support poor old Mungo. And we both thought Tilly would be able to help.’
‘I would have thought it was Oliver who needed the support,’ said Susie. ‘But anyway, yes, I’m sure they’ll welcome you.’
‘I – I think I’ll stay here for a bit – if that would be all right, Janet,’ said Harriet. Her voice was almost deathly quiet. ‘I don’t think I can face any more scenes.’
‘Oh Harriet, please come,’ said Rufus. ‘I know it would help, and I’m sure Tilly would –’
‘Rufus, leave poor Harriet alone, for heaven’s sake,’ said Susie. ‘She’s absolutely worn out. Harriet darling, you’re very pale. I bet you haven’t eaten anything all day. Why don’t you have a sandwich or something?’
‘No – really, I’m not hungry,’ said Harriet. ‘But thank you anyway. Lovely tea, Janet. I’ll see you later, Tilly. Maybe back here or something. I’d ask you over to the Court House, but –’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Oh I don’t think that’s a very good idea,’ said Tilly quickly. ‘Rufus can sort something out. You stay here, Harry, you look rotten. We can talk later. Come on, Rufus, let’s go.’
They drove over to Woodstock in Rufus’s rather uncharacteristically flashy Porsche. Tilly suddenly felt desperately tired and slightly surreal; she had planned to talk to Rufus about the offer from Rosenthal amongst other things, but she drifted off instead into a strange half-waking, half-sleeping state. She woke in the courtyard of the Royal Hotel to see Sir Merlin’s car parked next to an extremely large and beautiful Bentley. ‘My God,’ she said, unwinding herself with difficulty from the confines of the Porsche. ‘You lot do have a corner in good cars.’
‘Yours isn’t so bad,’ said Rufus. ‘Oh Tilly, it’s nice to see you. I hope I’ve said that.’
‘You haven’t,’ said Tilly, grinning at him, ‘but I kind of took it for granted.’
‘Good. I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ said Tilly, kissing him on the mouth, putting her arm through his.
‘Have you thought any more about marrying me?’
‘I’ve thought about it, yes.’
‘And? What are you thinking?’
‘Nothing very different,’ said Tilly, kissing him gently again, ‘just that I love you. But I have something else to talk to you about.’ She smiled at him. ‘Is Mr Buchan here? I hope so. He’s really wild.’
‘Theo? I’d forgotten you knew him. Now I feel jealous. Yes, I think so. He certainly was. Anyway, Mungo will know. What’s the something else like?’
‘Oh – business,’ said Tilly. ‘It can wait.’
Mungo and Oliver were in Mungo’s room. Oliver was extremely drunk. He was still in his striped trousers and his white shirt; his fair hair was wild and his blue eyes were bleary, dark shadows etched heavily underneath them. A half-empty bottle of bourbon stood on the table by him.
‘Hi,’ he said, ‘so good of you to come. Welcome to my bridal feast. Hallo, Tilly. Specially good of you. Long way from Paris.’ He got up and went over to her, gave her a hug. She hugged him back. He smelt very strongly of bourbon and the extremely expensive aftershave he always wore. The mix wasn’t exactly good, but it was very sexy. Oliver wasn’t conventionally, overtly sexy, but there was a tension, a tautness about him that was very attractive, almost challenging, Tilly had thought the first time she met him. She had danced with him once, and felt that tension, felt it right through him, a physical thing, and she imagined then that once released it would have a power of its own, strong, possibly dangerous. She had considered (not having then met Rufus, fallen in love with him) working on it, on him, exploring him, the challenge had been as arousing as Oliver himself, and she’d stood still on the dance floor briefly, just looking at him, contemplating him and what his rather awkwardly moving body might do for her, and he had recognized it and stood still himself, looking back at her, and then pulled her to him, quite abruptly, and she felt his erection rising against her, felt his face against her neck, his lips on her ear, and a flood of quite extraordinary warmth had filled her, and she’d slithered one hand slowly down his back, towards his buttocks, and as it moved she felt the tension beneath it leaving him, easing, and his hand joined hers, echoing the charge in him, and he’d said, ‘Tilly, you are just – just –’ and then the music had changed, grown faster, and she’d said laughing, ‘What am I, Oliver, what am I?’ And he’d stood back, and she’d watched him gather himself together again, look over at where Harriet was dancing with Mungo, and he said ‘Gorgeous,’ lightly, but carefully, and then ‘Come on, let’s get a drink.’ And the others saw them going to the bar and joined them, and she had never been in a situation to explore him again. Now sharply she remembered and standing there, close to him, felt confused, almost embarrassed. She smiled at him, kissed him on the cheek.
‘It was a long way,’ she said, ‘but it was worth it.’
‘You haven’t got Harriet with you?’
‘No. She’s at the Beaumonts’.’
‘Ah. Well, do have a drink, all of you. Help yourselves. Mungo old chap, you do the honours. Tilly, what’ll you have?’
‘Diet Pepsi, please,’ said Tilly.
‘Rufus, old man?’
‘Oh – the same.’
‘So she’s up in the sky somewhere, then,’ said Oliver. ‘My bride. My beautiful bride. Oh God.’
‘Yes,’ said Rufus. ‘Yes, so it seems. You had no idea she could fly?’
‘None.’
‘How odd. So unlike Cressida to have a secret like that.’
‘Oh yes. Very unlike her.’ He sounded bitter suddenly, angry. It was hardly surprising, Tilly supposed. Poor Oliver. Grief apart, the humiliation of this was fairly heavy. And he had one hell of an ego, Oliver. He was nice, he was clever, but he did have an attitude.
‘Mind you,’ said Rufus, ‘she did surprise one now and again. Didn’t she?’
They all looked at him.
‘Did she?’ said Mungo. ‘I always thought you could read Cressida like a book.’
‘Yes. A mystery book,’ said Oliver and laughed shortly.
‘What do you mean, Rufus?’ said Mungo.
‘Oh – nothing much. She just wasn’t quite as straight-forward as she seemed.’
‘In what way? Give us a for-instance. You never know, it might help.’
‘I’m sure it won’t, but – well, for instance I never knew she could speak such perfect French.’
Mungo stared at him. ‘She can’t.’
‘Yes she can.’
‘Rufus, she can’t. When she came to stay with my dad and me in Paris quite recently, it was embarrassing. She insisted on trying out some very schoolgirly stuff one night in a restaurant.’
‘Well I’m sorry but she can. I’ve heard her.’
‘When?’
‘Well,’ said Rufus, clearly enjoying the mild furore he was causing, ‘she was in Paris visiting Harriet once, and I arrived in Harriet’s flat and she was on the phone, I don’t know who to, but it was about some money she was having transferred into a French bank or something. And she was absolutely fluent. A lot better than me.’
‘Did you ask her about it?’
‘Yes. She didn’t know I was there at first – she was a bit embarrassed. Not about speaking French but about the conversation. I told her I hadn’t taken any of it in, which was true really. I said I was impressed by her French and she said she’d just done a crash course, she’d always regretted not going on with it at school.’
‘I see.’ Mungo looked at him thoughtfully. ‘How odd. Did you – did you mention it to Harriet?’
‘No, Cress asked me not to. She said it was a bit of a sore subject, Harriet had always had trouble with the language and she’d cracked it so easily.’
‘Oliver, did you know she could speak perfect French?’
‘Not really. It wasn’t the sort of thing we discussed,’ said Oliver blearily.
‘Oh well. You must have got things muddled, Mungo. Must have had dinner with her before she did the course.’
‘Rufus, we had dinner with her about a month ago.’
‘Well, she was obviously fooling around. I can’t think it’s very important.’
‘No. No, of course not. Tilly, do you know anything surprising about Cressida?’
‘I don’t know her well enough to be surprised by her. If you see what I mean,’ said Tilly. ‘I’ve only met her about three times. Twice in London and once in New York.’
‘Oh yes, last Christmas? When she was staying with Oliver and we all had dinner?’
‘Yeah. The only thing that ever surprised me was how different she was from Harriet. Not to look at so much, there was some kind of family look, but their personalities. It was hard to believe they were sisters. Harry’s so positive and independent and ambitious, and Cressida’s so – gentle and feminine and all that stuff.’
‘Everyone said that. Says that,’ Rufus corrected himself. ‘We mustn’t start talking in the past. I’m sure she’ll be back. Soon.’
‘Yeah,’ said Mungo. ‘Of course she will.’
‘Oh yes, and there was something else,’ said Tilly, ‘something really surprising. I only learnt today. Sir Merlin told me. Did you know, I suppose you did, that she was really good at poker?’
‘Poker! Cressida! Oh that’s ridiculous,’ said Mungo. ‘I tried to teach her once. She gives everything away all the time, can’t remember anything, doesn’t concentrate –’
‘Merlin said she was great. That she’s planning to surprise you.’
‘Well she certainly will,’ said Mungo. ‘I’ll believe it when I –’
Oliver suddenly stood up. ‘Oh God,’ he said, ‘going to throw up,’ and he rushed into the bathroom. They waited for a long time; in the end Tilly stood up and went in after him. He was sitting on the lavatory, his head in his hands. She sat on the edge of the bath, and stroked his hair gently.
‘Oh Til,’ he said, ‘oh Tilly, what a frightful bloody mess.’
He looked up at her
and his eyes were red; a tear rolled down one cheek. She reached out and stroked it away.
‘Oliver, I’m not going to say anything stupid, like you mustn’t worry. But you have to hang on in there. She’ll be all right. I know she will.’
He shook his head, took both her hands, clung onto them. His eyes as he looked at her were tortured, agonized.
‘No. No, I don’t think she will be. And even if – oh God, Tilly, this is so terrible. So much more terrible than you can imagine even. I –’
He stopped, bit his lip. Tilly looked at him, waited.
‘Yes? You what, Oliver?’
‘Oh – nothing. Shit, I’m going to be sick again.’
Tilly stayed with him, held his head, fetched him some water. He sat down on the bath beside her, put his arm round her. ‘You’re a great girl, Tilly,’ he said, ‘the best. Should be marrying you really. Only Rufus wouldn’t like it.’
‘Not too much,’ said Tilly lightly. ‘And anyway, it would be a terrible idea.’
‘Well, thanks. You really know how to make a man feel better.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. I bet we’d have a good time in bed though.’ He smiled at her, distracted just momentarily from his misery.
‘Maybe. Oliver –’ Perhaps this wasn’t the time to mention this morning, but Tilly believed in directness, in getting things said. ‘Oliver, Rufus phoned me in Paris this morning. He said you were terribly upset, that – that you felt you couldn’t go through with the wedding. You can tell me to take a running jump if you like, but – well, what was that about? I mean is there some kind of connection, do you think? I’m sorry, Oliver, if I shouldn’t have mentioned it, but – well, what did you –’
Oliver stared at her; he looked first startled, then wary. ‘Oh,’ he said quickly, ‘I didn’t mean anything. Not really. Just nerves, wedding-day nerves. I’m sure lots of bridegrooms say things like that.’
‘Yeah,’ said Tilly. ‘Yeah, I’m sure they do.’ But most bridegrooms don’t take an overdose, she thought, don’t cry for help that loudly. Well, he clearly wasn’t going to tell her. There was a silence. ‘It’s terribly hot in here,’ she said. ‘Why don’t we go for a walk or something? Just you and me, Oliver?
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