‘No,’ said Oliver, ‘I don’t think so. Nice idea, Til, but I think I ought to stay by the phone.’
There was a knock on the door. It was Mungo. ‘OK, Oliver?’
‘He’s fine. I was just trying to persuade him to come for a walk with me, but he says he ought to stay by the phone.’
‘You can take my mobile,’ said Mungo. ‘I think it’s a really good idea. You have a chat with Tilly, and we’ll ring you if there’s any news at all. Anyway, you don’t have to go far.’
He was clearly desperate for a break, Tilly thought. She stood up, held out her hand to Oliver.
‘Come on. I’m not used to being turned down. I might get difficult.’
‘God forbid,’ said Oliver, and for the first time he smiled. ‘OK. We’ll go. Thanks, Tilly. Thanks, Mungo. For everything. You’ve been one hell of a best man, you know that? You too, Rufus.’ He smiled at them all weakly, and followed Tilly out of the room.
As they walked out of the front door of the hotel, a Jaguar pulled into the drive.
‘Christ,’ said Oliver, ‘it’s James Forrest. I wonder if there’s any news.’
‘Oh God,’ said Tilly. She stood quite still, staring at the car, at the shadowy figure inside it. Her heart was thudding so hard she felt it might break right through her ribs; she felt sick and very hot, and at the same time oddly clammy, as if she might faint. It had happened, finally: she was going to come face to face with this man who had wrecked her mother’s life, as good as murdered her baby, greatly damaged her physical and mental health, and deprived Tilly herself of a twin sister – and had refused to make any recompense for any of it. God, how was she going to deal with it, what was she going to say?
And then he got out of the car, James Forrest, and walked towards them slowly, and she could see he recognized her, knew who she was, and was as totally thrown, as horrified as she. But any anxieties about what she might say or do were swept away as Tilly stared into his face. At a set of features so familiar to her she could scarcely believe she was looking at them on a different person, at a head of thick wavy hair that despite being more grey than fair was instantly recognizable, at a way of moving – slowly, almost carefully – that was one she knew, had studied tenderly, lovingly, at a body that was tall, narrow-hipped (despite a burgeoning paunch), but with surprisingly broad shoulders. Only the eyes were different, blue not brown, but otherwise, God, God Almighty, how could anyone not see it, the almost astonishing resemblance? Presumably it had always been there, developing so slowly no one had taken it in – and as she stood there, staring, drinking him in, her enemy, learning who he really was, she knew with a rush of sadness and something close to rage that even setting aside all her other reasons she could never ever marry Rufus now.
Chapter 12
Susie 2:30pm
Susie decided not to say anything to Alistair that day, about her breast, her conversation with Mr Hobson: there was enough drama, enough crisis going on. There would be plenty of time tomorrow. In any case she didn’t know quite what she was going to say, not until she had spoken to James. But she longed to talk to James, more than she ever had in her life, to lay her fear and her misery on him, to ask his advice, to draw on his strength. Until she had done that, she would wait, head in sand.
Anyway, Alistair had always hated scenes, emotion, conflict. It was one of the reasons Susie had married him. Partly because she hated them too, partly because she knew he would never become overanalytical about their marriage. A marriage to someone she didn’t love Susie could handle (especially when the someone was charming, rich, civilized and clever). Having that marriage and its foundations examined, queried, fretted over, she could not.
Alistair had left that afternoon, just after two. ‘Darling, of course you must go,’ Susie said. ‘No earthly point in you being here in the middle of this nightmare, there’s absolutely nothing you can do, and you’ll be much much happier back at your desk.’
‘Well, that’s certainly true. I must say this has revised my view that nothing could be worse than a wedding. There not being a wedding. Where do you think the silly girl’s gone?’
‘God knows,’ said Susie with a sigh. ‘I just hope she’s all right. One hears such awful things and Cressida is so trusting and sweet. I fear for her, I really do.’
‘I think she’s well able to take care of herself actually,’ said Alistair.
‘That sounds interesting. Why do you think that?’
‘Oh – nothing really.’
‘Alistair! You can’t do this to me. What is it?’
‘Well – I’ve never told you this. Didn’t seem very important. But I was once dancing with her, you remember, that terrible New Year thing we were all at, at Hurlingham, and she came on very strong at me. Tried to dance me out of the ballroom.’
‘Alistair! You must have been drunk.’
‘Susie, you know I never get drunk.’ That was true; he didn’t. ‘She was, though. Extremely.’
‘And?’
‘And I just gently disentangled myself. Took her back to the table.’
‘Was she upset?’
‘No,’ said Alistair briefly. ‘She was furious.’
Susie saw him out to his car. ‘I expect I’ll be up later, but it may not be till tomorrow. Would that be all right?’
‘Yes of course. As long as you keep the children down here. I really don’t want to have to worry about Annabel.’
‘You don’t have to worry about Annabel, I promise,’ said Susie, kissing him. ‘Anyway, she’s still hoping to make an impression on Mungo Buchan. So she’ll be more than happy to stay.’
‘I hope she’s not successful,’ said Alistair, plainly alarmed at the prospect. ‘That boy is serious trouble.’
‘He isn’t actually, but you don’t have to worry. There’s no danger of him taking any notice of Annabel. I happen to know he has a perfectly lovely girlfriend somewhere who is fortunate enough not to have been asked to this nightmare, and he can’t wait to get back to her. So Rufus tells me anyway. Annabel may seem very lovely to you and me, but to Mungo she’s a very immature, slightly overweight schoolgirl. Incidentally you didn’t really tell her you’d buy her a car as soon as she passed her test, did you?’
‘No, of course not. I wouldn’t unleash that child out on the roads with a shopping trolley.’
‘I thought not. Only she implied it was on the delivery truck now, just round the corner from the house, unless I was evil enough to send it away. Anyway, you get back up to London, and don’t worry about anything here. And I do assure you, your family is safe from the Buchans, my darling.’
‘Even my wife?’
‘Alistair! Have you not studied the lovely Sasha? Sex on legs, and Theo is mad about her. And they’ve been married less than a year.’
‘She seems very stupid,’ said Alistair cheerfully, throwing his leather Gladstone into the boot of the Jaguar. ‘I don’t give it more than another year. At the most.’
‘I fear you may be right. It would be so nice to see Theo properly settled. These bimbos are all very well, but he needs something a bit more – substantial.’
‘Sasha seems quite substantial to me. Especially in the pectoral area.’
‘You know I don’t mean physically. I just wish he could find another Deirdre. The one real love of his life.’
‘Only because she died.’
‘Alistair!’
‘I’m sorry, darling, but it’s true. I can’t help my incisive legal mind. If Deirdre had lived, Theo would have been fooling around within the year. You know he would.’
‘Well – I don’t know actually. I think I take a slightly more benign view of Theo than you do. Anyway, there’s nothing we can do to help him, I’m afraid.’
‘No, he’s beyond help,’ said Alistair. ‘Well, my darling, I’m off. How will you get back to London?’
‘In Rufus’s car.’
‘Oh yes of course. What’s the superstar girlfriend like? Wish I hadn’t missed her.�
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‘Glorious.’
‘Well I know that. I’ve seen her pictures.’
‘No, but she’s intelligent and funny too. I really liked her.’
‘Do you think they’ll get married?’
‘Oh no,’ said Susie coolly, opening the car door for him. ‘Definitely not. They couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh – it just wouldn’t work.’
‘Pity. Bit of exotica in the family might have been nice. Bye, darling.’
‘Bye, Alistair.’
He kissed her fondly, patted her neat, well-exercised backside and climbed into the car. Susie waved him off, smiling, and then went back rather wearily into the house. She was stunned by the swift, almost cataclysmic change the news from Mr Hobson had wrought in her feelings about everything. Including Alistair, including her marriage. Until today, she had been very clear about it all. Alistair was a dear, sweet man, whom she was extremely fond of and with whom she got along extremely well. As a marriage it had seemed very near perfect. She had always wondered why people got so worked up about being in love with the person they married. Alistair had the occasional affair – he was probably off to see his latest girlfriend now, a little bonus of time Cressida had provided him with, so some good had come of this fiasco – and she had Jamie and no harm had been done to anyone. (Not, she was fairly sure, that Alistair knew about Jamie, and certainly, most certainly, not about Rufus.) It had all worked perfectly, and she had known as surely as she had known her own name that it was an infinitely more practical arrangement than the other way, endless misery and tears and divorce. She and Alistair would no more have thought of getting divorced than – Susie struggled for something sufficiently unlikely – than moving to the country. They would agree – had they ever discussed it, which they had not – that divorce would be disagreeable, disruptive and extremely expensive. Marriage was a business arrangement, and as long as both parties adhered to the original principles, the business thrived. The French knew that; French marriages had always been based on the principle of convenience.
But now, today, she felt completely differently. She needed Jamie, because she loved him, she needed to be with him, she needed them to be a couple, a strong united force, she needed his support, his overt support, not the rather vague intangible awareness of it buried deep within herself and her life. She needed to wake up with him and to go to sleep with him, she needed to have a home with him, to be recognized as his wife, as the woman he loved. It was the only way she could survive, survive the pain and the fear and the prospect of the awful, final separation. The children might be upset, Maggie might be deeply wounded, but they would survive. They were strong, they were whole, healthy people who were not going to die. If they didn’t like it, she thought, then that was absolutely their problem. She did not, could not care. The time had come for selfishness. She wanted to be with the person she loved.
She wondered suddenly if that might have been why Cressida had run away: thinking that she didn’t love Oliver enough, or that he didn’t love her. I should have made an effort to spend some time with her, she thought to herself, over the past few weeks, maybe she needed a confidante, some reassurance, she was such a romantic, naive little thing. She and Cressida had always been able to talk, and enjoyed one another’s company, and Maggie was so neurotic and hopeless, no use at all in such a situation.
Then she remembered what Alistair had said about Cressida making a pass at him at the dance, and she reflected that perhaps Cressida was not quite so romantic and naive after all …
‘Susie dear,’ said Janet, as she went into the kitchen. ‘That was Janine on the phone. She said could you perhaps go over there, take over for a bit, she’s absolutely exhausted, and Jamie’s disappeared somewhere. I must say that’s a bit bad of him, but –’
‘He’s probably gone to see the police or something,’ said Susie. ‘Anyway, if I was Jamie today I think I’d have disappeared by now. Yes, of course I’ll go over.’ God, that was all she needed, feeling as she did, having to comfort and cheer Maggie. ‘Is Janine still on the phone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Janine, hi. How are things?’
‘Not fun,’ said Janine. ‘Jamie has been trying to persuade Maggie to take something, just to calm her down, but she won’t. She veers between hysteria and terrible deadly silence. I’m running out of smoke, I’m afraid.’
‘Steam, darling, steam,’ said Susie. ‘All right, I’ll come over. You’ve earned a break. I’ll have to borrow a car.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ Harriet’s voice was behind her. ‘I’ve got my car here.’
‘Oh – all right, darling. Thank you. The cavalry’s on its way, Janine.’
Harriet looked rotten, Susie thought. Well, it was hardly surprising. She’d taken a great deal today. Poor little thing. She was so fond of Cressida. Always been the big sister, looked after her, protected her.
‘You all right to drive, poppet?’ she asked as Harriet swung her Peugeot 205 away from the Beaumonts’ house.
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Harriet. ‘What a bitch of a day.’
She braked suddenly, switched off the engine and burst into tears. It was extraordinarily out of character; she never cried.
‘Oh, sweetie,’ said Susie, putting her arm round her. ‘Darling Harriet, you cry. You need that. You must feel so terrible.’
‘I do,’ said Harriet. ‘Absolutely terrible.’
‘It’s so – harsh somehow. So sudden. And Cressida of all people. So well behaved, so – perfect. Everyone loving her, wanting her to be happy.’
‘That’s Cressida,’ said Harriet. ‘Well behaved. Perfect. Everyone loving her.’ Her voice sounded dead, almost bitter. Susie looked at her sharply.
‘Sorry,’ said Harriet, lightening her voice with a clear effort. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m upset, Susie, I didn’t mean anything.’
‘You sounded as if you did.’
‘No, honestly. It’s – well – I just don’t know what to do.’
‘Of course you don’t, darling. None of us do.’
‘No, but –’ She slumped back in her seat and looked at Susie. Her eyes were very dark, very shadowed.
‘Harriet, has something happened? Something new? That you haven’t told us.’
‘Oh – well, yes and no,’ said Harriet with a sigh.
‘Want to tell me about it? I promise not to pass it on,’ she added, ‘I’m very good at keeping secrets.’
‘Are you?’ Harriet looked at her, seemed to be trying to decide something. ‘Yes, I expect you are.’
If only you knew, thought Susie, and thank God you don’t.
‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘I might be able to help.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Harriet, bleakly. ‘Not unless you could give me a couple of million pounds.’
‘Ah,’ said Susie. ‘Possibly not. It’s the business, is it?’
‘Yup,’ said Harriet briefly. She sighed. ‘I’ve got myself into the most filthy mess, Susie. Mostly through my own arrogance. Wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t take advice. And now – oh Susie, you can’t begin to imagine.’
And Susie sat there, listening sadly, sorrowfully, to the quintessential nineties story, of overexpansion, high interest rates, lower profits. Harriet had overexpanded, mostly in France: her little shop in Passy making a fortune, she had bought the right to a lease on another –’the most beautiful shop, in the rue du Bac, right by the Conran shop it was, and I looked at it and it was perfect. Loads of people pouring past every day, the very chic-est area, and terribly expensive. But I could just see it, my clothes in it, my name over the door, the interior all done out in my lovely silver and white, and I wanted it. I had to have it.’
‘Well, it doesn’t sound too silly, so far,’ said Susie gently. ‘Good sites are what good business is all about.’
‘Yes and no,’ said Harriet, blowing her nose. ‘I mean you’re right, but that wasn’t actually what it was about. Not a shop, not a
site at all, Susie, it was about my bloody fucking ego – sorry –’
‘That’s all right, darling.’
‘I have to be so important, you know, have to have everyone looking at me. I mean what was wrong with the dear little shop in Passy? Nothing, nothing at all, except it wasn’t big-time stuff. And I wanted to be big-time. To get my name on the fashion pages, be one of the in-crowd. I mean what a pathetic, pitiful ambition. God, I’m ashamed of myself. And it was so much money, that lease. You know how it works in Paris, you buy the right to rent a place. Two million francs it cost me, only it wasn’t me, it was – oh shit, Susie, I’m so ashamed of myself.’
‘Who was it?’ asked Susie quietly.
‘It was Janine. Darling Janine, who’s been there for me all my life. She insisted I took it, said she wanted to help. It’s a lot of money, you know, it’s –’
‘Yes, I know, it’s two hundred thousand pounds, give or take a bit. Well I’m sure she could afford it if she offered it.’
‘No she couldn’t. Not easily, anyway, not so it didn’t matter if she lost it. I mean of course it was a loan, and I’m paying her interest, well I was, but lower than the bank would take. But it’s gone, Susie, all of it. The shop never even broke even, and then I remortgaged the shop in Covent Garden, just to keep it open, and you know how big the turnover on that one is, and even that didn’t support the loan. I really, really should have listened to Rufus, he said right from the beginning –’
‘Rufus?’ said Sue sharply. ‘What does Rufus have to do with it?’
‘He told me I should get a proper business adviser, rather than just Johno –’
‘Who’s Johno?’
‘He’s my accountant. Has been right from the beginning. And he’s sweet and lovely and clever, but he just isn’t up to all this stuff. Rufus even had someone in mind for me, someone he knows. But no, I had to know best, had to be able to manage. I wasn’t satisfied with being a good designer, I had to be a brilliant businesswoman as well, Jean Muir and Anita Roddick rolled into one. Someone actually wrote that about me in an article a few months ago, well, not quite that, but said I had the makings of one. No doubt there’ll be plenty now saying that I haven’t.’
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