Another Woman (9781468300178)

by Vincenzi, Penny

  ‘I want to talk to you. What did Mark want?’

  ‘Oh – business. Nothing for you to worry about.’

  ‘Theo, I am growing a little tired of this,’ she said.

  Theo smiled up at her, put out his hand and took hers. He raised it to his lips. ‘Of what, my love?’

  ‘Of being treated like some little tart who’s only fit for one thing.’

  ‘But my darling, you’re so very fit for it,’ said Theo. He suddenly wanted her, wanted to be in bed with her, wanted to be taken away, however briefly, from this dreadful day. ‘So beautifully, wonderfully fit. Come and sit down here. I want you to distract me.’

  She looked at him and he thought for a moment she was going to refuse, then she sat down beside him and smiled at him very sweetly.

  ‘The silly thing is,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘I’m really rather fond of you.’

  Theo stroked her hair. ‘I don’t see why that’s silly,’ he said.

  ‘You will,’ said Sasha, ‘I’m afraid.’

  ‘Sasha, what are you talking about?’ said Theo. He felt very tired and slightly drunk, and he was finding Sasha’s behaviour disturbing. ‘Look, let’s go to bed. You look gorgeous and I need a fuck.’

  ‘But I don’t,’ said Sasha.

  Theo felt as if he had been hit. In the whole nine months of their marriage, Sasha had never refused him, had never even hinted that she was not one hundred and one per cent ready for him.

  ‘What is this?’ he said, trying to smile. ‘What’s wrong? Do I have bad breath or something? Should I have a shower?’

  ‘No,’ said Sasha coolly, ‘but I should.’

  She stood up, walked into the bathroom and shut the door. Theo poured himself another whisky, and sat trying to pretend that this was absolutely par for the course, that women were unpredictable, sexually quixotic, not to mention slaves to their hormones, that it had been a tough day, he should take this like a man. And the more he told himself all this, the more he knew there was something wrong. Most women were unpredictable and sexually quixotic (Harriet particularly so, her mood swings and libido fiercely, erotically interesting, and why was he thinking about Harriet and sex in one breath at this moment when, if she had walked through the door, he would have hit her?), but Sasha was not. Sasha was a constant flame, a lovely liquid, constant flame, it was the greatest source of his fondness for her, it had healed and soothed him after the pain of Harriet. And now, in his hour of great need, she was failing him. Well, she couldn’t. It was unendurable.

  Theo stubbed out his cigar, took a last swig of whisky and walked into the bathroom.

  Sasha was in the shower; he could see the outline of her slender body against the glass door. God, she was gorgeous. The mind, the soul might not be quite there, but the body was. Theo stood staring through the glass, thinking about Sasha, about the feel of her, the look of her, the gently golden all-over tan, the firm, high breasts (there had to be a bit of silicone there, she denied it absolutely but he still suspected it), her slightly bony hips, her flat stomach, and her surprisingly thick golden-brown bush. And within the bush, behind it – Theo felt his heart beginning to beat uncomfortably hard; desire ripped through him. He tore off his belt, his trousers, his shirt, opened the shower door; and Sasha stood there, looking at him, her eyes moving thoughtfully over him, lingering contemplatively, almost amusedly on his erect cock. But she did not reach out for it, as she usually did, did not press her small, greedy body against him, onto him, but turned her back towards him, and stood there, her face raised into the thudding water.

  Theo suddenly lost not just his temper but his senses. He stepped forward into the shower, pulled her round and started to kiss her, ramming his penis against her. She pulled back, startled; he went on. He knew he was being stupid, brutal even, but he couldn’t help it. He had to have her, had to lose himself in her hot sweetness, had to try to forget the dreadful day.

  ‘Theo!’ said Sasha, her voice very calm, very loud against the background of the thudding water. ‘Theo, stop it. Please. I don’t – I don’t want to. Stop it.’

  But he couldn’t stop; he was in the grip of a wild, angry hunger, a hunger that was totally out of control, and he was out of control with it, grasping, pushing, thrusting at her; and still she resisted, stayed closed to him. And then he was in her; and it was wrong, different, she was tight, hard, hostile, not the Sasha he knew, not fluid, not welcoming, her mouth lifeless under his, her hands hanging motionless at her sides. And still he went on, he had to, pushing into her, rising, falling, and then quite quickly it was over, he felt the rush, the flooding, the release, and felt something else too, almost at once, something rare and ugly and unfamiliar; shame he supposed it was. And he withdrew from her and stepped back out of the shower and shut the door without meeting her eyes.

  He pulled on a robe, and went and lay down on the bed; he felt sick and wretched and very tired. After a long time she came in too, a towel wrapped round her sarong style, and started to rummage through the cupboard for something to wear without looking at him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said suddenly, startled to hear the words. ‘So sorry, Sasha. Please forgive me. I won’t do it again.’

  She looked at him rather distantly. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

  ‘I was – upset,’ he said.

  ‘Oh dear.’

  Shit, who was this? This coolly controlled woman, with no apparent desire to please, to say the right thing, to comfort him, to screw him, for God’s sake.

  She looked at him across the room. ‘Would you like a drink?’ she said, in the same distant tone. ‘Because I would.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Theo, ‘Yes I would. Scotch. No ice. Thank you,’ he added as an afterthought.

  She gave him a look of half amusement; half dislike as she handed him the glass. She sat down on a chair in the corner of the room with a glass of white wine and sipped it slowly and carefully, as if it was important what it tasted like.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. He had lit another cigar.

  ‘That’s all right,’ said Sasha, ‘I’ll get over it. So what are you upset about?’

  ‘Mark had news for me,’ said Theo, ‘quite bad news as a matter of fact. On a small scale.’

  ‘What sort of bad news?’

  ‘Sasha, I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Theo, I do. All right?’

  The same detached look, the distant coolness. For some reason it worried him. What the hell was going on? Well, it might actually help to tell her, to talk about it. Set it in perspective, clarify what he might do next.

  ‘Oh – yes, all right. There was a company I very much wanted to get hold of.’

  ‘Called?’

  ‘CalVin.’

  ‘Ah. The wine company.’

  ‘Yes. How do you know that?’

  ‘I know lots of things, Theo. You’d be surprised.’

  ‘I’m beginning to be. Anyway, it was – is – in California.’

  ‘Yes, I know. In the Napa Valley.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Theo. ‘In the most beautiful spot. I’d rather fancied building a house there as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Oh really? For whom?’

  ‘For you and me of course.’ Now what was going on? He looked at her, but her eyes were clear, wide, unreadable.

  ‘I see. Well, so what’s happened?’

  ‘What’s happened is that some other bastard has got hold of it. Well, of a lot of it. Bought a huge block of shares just today. God knows why, and it doesn’t really matter, but – but –’

  ‘It hurts,’ said Sasha with that same distant look, ‘doesn’t it, Theo? Seeing your plans scuppered, all awry? Seeing someone playing with you, with what you want to do? It hurts.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Theo, ‘it hurts. It hurts like hell. And it makes me very angry.’

  ‘With whom?’

  ‘With a great many people. With Mark, for letting this thing slip through his fingers. W
ith whoever bought the fucking thing. With myself, I suppose.’

  ‘I see,’ said Sasha. ‘Well, I’m sorry.’

  She got up again and pulled the big leather case she had brought with her out of the clothes cupboard. She opened it, and then began taking things out of drawers and off hangers and piling them on the bed beside the case. Theo looked at her irritably.

  ‘What the hell are you doing? I don’t want to leave. We have to stay here with James.’

  ‘You do,’ said Sasha. ‘I don’t.’ She was dressing now, pulling on some leggings and a T-shirt; she sprayed herself with perfume, brushed her hair, started checking through her handbag.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Theo put the cigar down in the ashtray by the bed, and stared at her.

  ‘I don’t want to stay here. I can’t do anything. Sorry as I feel for everyone. So I’m going back to London.’

  ‘You are doing nothing of the sort,’ said Theo. ‘I need you here with me.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to make do without,’ said Sasha sweetly.

  ‘Sasha, you are not to go back to London. Absolutely not.’

  ‘Theo, I’m going.’

  A black, rising rage took hold of Theo. He stood up, moved across to her, took her arm in a violent grip. It was very thin, that arm, he noticed, little bigger than one of his own wrists, but it was extremely strong.

  ‘You’re staying, Sasha.’

  ‘Theo, I’m going. For good. And let go of me. Now.’

  Theo felt the ground shifting beneath him; the walls seemed to be moving before his eyes. Sasha’s face, on the other hand, was quite still, gazing up at him, the eyes calm and contemptuous in the eye of the storm.

  ‘Theo, I think I should tell you something. The – er – bastard who bought all those shares in CalVin. It was me.’

  ‘You! Oh don’t be so ridiculous.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said. ‘I bought them. They’re mine.’

  ‘But you haven’t got any money.’

  ‘Yes I have.’

  ‘Well it’s my money, if you have. And if you’ve used my money to do that, then the company is mine.’

  ‘No, Theo, I think not.’

  He stared at her; she was smiling gently, almost pityingly at him. He got up, refilled his glass, sat down again, without taking his eyes from her. She hadn’t moved.

  ‘I think I’d better explain.’

  ‘I think you had.’

  ‘You’ve been very generous to me, Theo. Very. Given me lots of lovely things. Lots. Except –’

  ‘Except what, Sasha?’

  ‘Except any kind of respect. Any real emotion. Just – what? – indulgence. And it wasn’t very nice, Theo, actually. I didn’t like it. I’m not a stupid woman, I don’t enjoy being put down at dinner tables, belittled at parties, treated like some kind of pet poodle. I don’t like being told I won’t understand things I’m well able to understand and to stay out of things I would really enjoy being involved in. It’s hurtful and humiliating. I did actually love you at first, Theo. You might find that hard to believe but it’s true. I would have married you if you hadn’t had any money at all actually. I thought you were lovely. Clever and charming and witty. And very very sexy of course. But it’s worn out, that love. You’ve wrecked it, Theo, by the way you’ve treated me. It’s not just me either, it’s Mungo and Mark and – well, almost everyone. I just can’t respect you. I really don’t even like you any more.’

  Theo wanted to speak but he couldn’t. If his entire life had depended on his getting out a dozen sensible consecutive words, he would have died then and there. He just sat, taking slug after slug of whisky, staring at her.

  ‘Anyway,’ she went on more briskly, starting to put things neatly into her case. ‘Anyway, I thought I’d show you that I wasn’t as stupid as you thought. And do something for myself into the bargain. So I sold lots of the things you’d given me. Jewellery mostly, I had copies made, but a few clothes too, the really wonderful things, the Saint-Laurent evening dresses and the Chanel suits. Of course I didn’t get very much for them, but it was enough. And I invested the money, did quite well.’

  ‘How did you know what to – buy?’ asked Theo. His voice was hoarse, rasping.

  ‘Theo, don’t be silly! I live with a master. I only had to listen and then instruct my broker. It was easy. Anyway, this was the big one, buying CalVin. Or most of CalVin. I bought that share in Tealing Mills yesterday, and sold it this morning. That’s why I went out early, to find a phone. And then with that money, I bought CalVin. I’m sorry, Theo, but I really wanted it. I think I’ll keep it. Of course I haven’t been out there yet, to look at it, at the vineyard, but I will now. Maybe tomorrow if I can get a flight.’

  Theo managed to speak again. ‘I’ll sue you,’ he said simply, ‘I’ll sue you until you can’t afford a drink of water.’

  ‘Theo, what for? I haven’t done anything wrong. Well, I suppose it was morally wrong, to sell the jewellery, but not legally. I don’t think. It was all gifts, surely, you didn’t plan on wearing any of it, or giving it to the next Mrs Buchan? And anyway, think how stupid you’d look, Theo, if you did sue me. Outwitted by your bimbo of a wife. I think you should keep very very quiet, actually. In any case’ – she walked over to him, kissed him gently on the forehead – ‘I don’t terribly mind if you do. I’m a survivor, and it will have been worth it. I’m off now. To London. Goodbye, Theo. It’s been a lot of fun. Say goodbye to Mungo for me. He’s a lovely boy. He’s been really kind to me. Oh, and Theo, I think you should get together with Harriet again. She’s obviously still in love with you, and you’ve never begun to get over her. Have you?’

  ‘Did she tell you about it?’ said Theo, hanging onto sanity with immense effort. ‘Because if she did –’

  ‘No, Theo, of course she didn’t. Harriet would never do anything so tacky.’

  ‘So who …?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Sasha, and there was an expression of immense distaste on her face, ‘it was Cressida, Theo. Sweet, lovely, too-good-to-be-true Cressida. She told me, very soon after we were married, actually. It wasn’t very nice of her, was it? And my goodness she enjoyed it. Anyway, I must go now. I have a taxi ordered, and a train to catch. Bye, Theo. Thank you for everything.’

  Chapter 17

  Tilly 7pm

  Tilly was in the nursery bathroom, lying in the bath, her Walkman turned right up, her eyes closed, concentrating on keeping her mind blank, not thinking even about Rosenthal (she was in no state to make that sort of decision), when Mungo came in. She wouldn’t have known he was there at all had he not turned off the taps and in doing so knocked one of her feet. She opened her eyes with a snap and saw him looking down at her, his black curls even wilder than usual, smiling slightly apologetically. She switched off the Walkman and smiled back.

  ‘Hi, Mungo.’

  ‘Hi, Til. Sorry to – er – disturb you. I came in for a pee. And you were about to flood the entire place.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ said Tilly equably. ‘You go ahead and have your pee. Fine by me. I should have locked the door.’

  ‘There would certainly have been a flood in that case, and anyway you couldn’t have,’ said Mungo. ‘One of Nanny Horrocks’s rules. No locks on her bathroom doors. You’d have liked Nanny Horrocks. She was ace. Tough as old boots, terribly strict, but such fun. She could play football better than the master at my prep school, and she was brilliant at poker too. I taught her, but she was better than me in no time.’

  ‘Really? Well, I haven’t known many nannies to compare her with,’ said Tilly. ‘How are things, and what are you doing here anyway? Apart from having a pee?’

  ‘I brought Harry back. From our hotel. She had a mega bust-up with Dad. She’s very upset.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Tilly. ‘Poor baby. What about?’

  ‘Well, she did do something a bit unfortunate. Cress phoned for Dad and Harriet insisted on taking the call and Cress rang off. So it looks like we lost her.’

  ‘Si
lly bitch,’ said Tilly amiably.

  ‘Who, Harry?’

  ‘No, of course not. Cressida. The more I hear of her, the more I discover, the less I like her. I mean, what a way to behave. God, I must sound like Nanny whatsername. But for heaven’s sake, Mungo, if she didn’t want to marry Oliver why couldn’t she just have said so weeks ago?’

  ‘Oh, I think there’s probably a bit more to it than that,’ said Mungo. He sat down on the side of the bath. ‘From everything I’ve heard. Mind if I stay? It’s not a lot of fun down there.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Tilly.

  ‘I’ve never seen you naked in the flesh before,’ he said, looking at her contemplatively. ‘Only shared you with millions of others in replicate.’ He smiled down at her, his dark eyes flicking over what was visible of her, her boobs and her knees.

  Tilly grinned back. ‘I hope I don’t disappoint you.’

  ‘Not at all. You look absolutely gorgeous. If I wasn’t seriously in love with someone else, I’d be in there with you.’

  ‘Then there’d really be a flood,’ said Tilly. ‘And don’t forget I’m seriously in love too. But it would distract them all a bit from their problems.’

  ‘Yeah. What are you actually doing here, Til? And where’s Rufus?’

  ‘Rufus is downstairs. Doing what he does best. Being charming, and soothing. And I was desperate for a bath and that old darling Merlin showed me in here, said it was the biggest bath in the place. He’s a peach.’

  ‘Yes he is. Harry says he’s working himself up for a romance with Janine. Pretty cool, eh?’

  ‘Ah, Janine. Cressida’s godmother? She’s very stylish.’

  ‘Yes she is. My dad told me she and James had a thing once, when James was very young.’

  ‘You’re kidding me!’

  ‘Not at all. He was a virgin of eighteen and she was a worldly Parisian of thirty-five, or something.’

  ‘Ugh,’ said Tilly and shuddered.

  ‘You don’t like James, I gather?’

  ‘I do not.’

  ‘He’s OK,’ said Mungo.

  ‘He’s not OK. I may tell you why one day.’