by Jilly Cooper
‘It’s so unfair. When I was nineteen, it was regarded as criminally selfish to keep your baby and deny it the security of a mother and father; now society regards you as having been criminally selfish if you gave a baby up. I can’t win.’
Like a rescued castaway, Anthea couldn’t stop gabbling.
‘They said I’d get over it, but I never did. I looked into every pram, thought of you every day, particularly on your birthday.’
‘When is it?’ asked Emerald idly.
‘July the ninth. No, the tenth. No, the eighth. You’re trying to trick me,’ flared up Anthea.
So Emerald flared up too.
‘It’s the seventh – actually,’ then, changing tack, ‘Raymond’s so approachable, even if he was married. I’m sure he would have supported you. There must have been oodles of money splashing around. If you’d really loved me.’
‘Of course Ay loved you, I carried you for nine months.’
Anthea’s tummy was so flat, it was hard to imagine a baby in there.
‘I’m sorry, I guess I’m testing you.’ Emerald stifled a yawn and shivered.
The thunder had rumbled away. Over the clatter of rain could be heard the distant boom of ‘American Pie’. Anthea looked at her watch.
‘We must get you to bed.’
Although Anthea lent her the prettiest white broderie anglaise nightgown trimmed with pale pink ribbon, Emerald detected a distinct froideur.
‘Oh wow,’ she cried, trying to make amends as Anthea showed her her room.
Painted on the walls was a riotous jumble of trees, Gods, nymphs, satyrs and woodland creatures peering through the greenery.
‘You do have the most wonderful taste.’
‘Sir Raymond’s first wife did this,’ said Anthea icily. ‘So self-indulgent. I long to paint over it, but Raymond thinks it’s a work of art, and her children are determined to hang on to it.’
Remember never to praise the first Mrs Belvedon, thought Emerald as Anthea whisked about, turning down the bed, switching on lights.
‘You are kind.’
‘I like to pamper my guests.’
Emerald glanced at their reflections in the big mirror, stunned by how alike they were, except for differentcoloured hair and eyes.
‘You look like my younger sister.’
Instantly Anthea dropped her guard, putting an arm round Emerald’s shoulders.
‘I’ll find you some lovely clothes to wear tomorrow. Promise not to run away.’
‘No, no, I’d love to stay. There’s only one thing bugging me, do I call you Lady Belvedon, or Anthea?’
‘I hope you’re going to call me Mummy.’
The moment she’d gone, Emerald rang Zac, who to her fury had switched off his mobile. How bloody selfish could you get? She was so desperate for reassurance that she was still adored and special, she was tempted to ring Patience and Ian, then caught sight of the bedside clock. Even her doting parents wouldn’t want to be roused at five in the morning.
Emerald woke whimpering and sweating with terror. On the wall to her right, Galena had painted a lusty Apollo lunging at Daphne, who was slowly turning into a laurel tree: her legs merging with the branches, long eyes and wild hair losing themselves in the leaves. Was this Emerald Cartwright turning into Charlene Belvedon?
She felt defenceless, post natal, utterly exhausted and strangely cheated, as though, having seen the film of a favourite book, the characters were not as she’d imagined. She could no longer fantasize about Rupert Campbell-Black rescuing her in a helicopter if things got rough. She had arrived at Foxes Court believing herself to be the injured party. But Anthea had stolen her role.
She was also freezing and in a hot, jasmine-scented bath felt she was washing away all her Cartwright past. The mirror had misted over; she couldn’t see who she was any more.
As she finished drying herself, the bedroom door opened. Not Jonathan on the pull, nor an outraged Jupiter demanding explanations, but a rotund yellow Labrador waddled in. Knowing he was banned from coming upstairs, Visitor pressed his face against the side of the bed. If he couldn’t see Emerald, she couldn’t see him. Hoping to draw her attention to the tin of sugar biscuits on the bedside table, Visitor wagged his tail.
Hearing whistling, Emerald ran to the window. Below, the forecourt was strewn with petals and shiny with puddles. Through dripping acid-green limes, she caught a tawny glimpse of the Old Rectory. A ginger cat idled along the dividing wall.
This is a glorious place, thought Emerald, running her hand over the little Degas horse on the window sill, this is definitely where I belong.
The whistling grew louder. Alizarin Belvedon, standing by the water trough, was reading the Observer. Having conned Jupiter and slapped Jonathan’s face, Emerald felt she’d better get Alizarin on her side.
To hell with clothes and make-up, she was now a bohemian Belvedon. Wriggling back into Anthea’s ravishing white nightgown, flinging her crimson pashmina round her shoulders, Emerald ran downstairs with Visitor galumphing behind her.
Having left the party straight after the showdown in the library, and been painting ever since, Alizarin had needed to clear his aching head.
Symbolizing the stripping away of the Belvedons’ illusions about Anthea’s professed virtue, last night’s rain and wind had ripped off the blossom and shredded the dandelion clocks and the white starry flowers of the wild garlic. The silver-and-black-striped water thundering into the mossy water trough always reminded Alizarin of Galena’s fringe. The whole wedding business yesterday had crucified him. Anthea’s spiteful remarks about his mother to Lynda Lee Potter had further banged in the nails.
And now Anthea’s daughter, barefoot, pale as her nightgown, black plait falling over one breast, wrapped in her crimson shawl like King Cophetua’s beggar maid, stood in the doorway. In the serpentine curve of her body and her wanton confidence that men would find her irresistible, Alizarin, like Zac, was reminded of Munch’s Madonna.
Was this the reason Galena had sunk into such despair? he wondered. Had she discovered Raymond had made another woman pregnant?
‘It’s not my fault,’ protested Emerald as Alizarin glared at her. ‘My mother was a virgin when your father seduced her.’
Blood all over the office sofa, thought Alizarin with a shudder, blood all over the hall and the Blue Tower when Galena died.
‘I didn’t ask to be born,’ said Emerald sulkily.
The tallest of the brothers, Alizarin towered over her. His dark hair, black sweatshirt, torn jeans and huge hands were spattered with brown and khaki paint like camouflage. His stubbly jaw was set; his eyes hidden by dark glasses, emphasizing his big broken nose. His mouth was tough and uncompromising. The sun had gone in but a purple-black cloud provided an appropriate backdrop. To Emerald, he seemed both savage and mysterious.
‘Can I come for a walk with you?’
Recceing her new domain, thought Alizarin bleakly.
‘I suppose so. Gumboots are on the right of the front door.’
The pale blue child’s pair marked ‘Anthea’ fitted her perfectly.
‘Why does Anthea mark her gumboots?’ Emerald raced to keep up with him. ‘No-one else could get into them.’
‘She’s very possessive.’ Alizarin glanced down at Emerald’s pearly white parting. ‘She won’t want to share you. Rightly or wrongly, you’re going to alter the balance of power here. Anthea totally ignored Jonathan and Sienna once Dicky and Dora arrived. They’re all going to be very jealous.’
As they walked down the garden, past weary caterers retrieving glasses from the bushes, Alizarin pointed out Jonathan and Sienna’s studio, not mentioning that it had once been Galena’s, and Hanna and Jupiter’s cottage with all the curtains drawn. Visitor, who was feeling sick after last night’s excesses, ate grass and drank noisily out of puddles. Before they reached Aunt Lily’s cottage overlooking the river, Alizarin turned right into the trees, where the downpour had lowered the green ceiling.
‘I’m chancing my arm going into the woods with you,’ Emerald said coyly. ‘You’re the only brother who hasn’t made a pass at me.’
‘Jupiter jumped on you?’
‘We had dinner after I did his head. He said his wife didn’t like sex, but they all say that.’
‘And?’
‘He asked me back to his house, but instead I leapt into a taxi.’
Detesting himself for having pried, Alizarin turned his disapproval on Zac and Emerald.
‘Pretty bloody, conning Jupiter and wrecking a family party.’
‘What else was I to do? Anthea rejected me three times, then she threatened me with an injunction.’
‘Did she?’ asked Alizarin in surprise. ‘I suppose there was lots at stake. You probably reminded her of all those feelings of loss and shame when she gave you up.’
‘You’re very fair,’ grumbled Emerald.
‘Not always,’ said Alizarin.
And terribly attractive, thought Emerald wistfully.
Suddenly, as though they were being pelted with ice cubes, hailstones clattered down. Opening his jacket, Alizarin pulled her inside, smelling of turps and sweat, as he protected her from the bombardment with his huge shoulders. Snuggling up to him, Emerald felt fleetingly safe as she had when Raymond hugged her last night.
It was like holding a child, reflected Alizarin, reminded suddenly and agonizingly of the baby Hanna had been carrying, whose birth had been terminated at Jupiter’s insistence. My child, who would be six now, thought Alizarin, churning with loathing for his brother.
The hailstorm only lasted a minute, but the whole steaming wood now reeked of pestled wild garlic. Visitor’s back looked as though it was covered in rhinestones. Alizarin let Emerald go.
‘Nice to have a big brother,’ she murmured.
‘Have you told your parents?’
‘Not yet.’
‘The Daily Mail will tomorrow.’
As they emerged from the wood, Emerald gasped: beyond the glittering river, a grey horse had taken shelter under one white hawthorn. Sheep were scattered like daisy petals under another. The pale green domes of the trees were fluffed up against a thundery grey sky. Then the sun came out turning the cow parsley an unearthly white. Everything sparkled as though a shoal of diamonds had been chucked down.
‘Borochova’s Silver Valley,’ sighed Emerald in ecstasy.
‘Been at the cuttings?’ snapped Alizarin.
‘No, I love her work,’ protested Emerald, ‘I bought a little drawing of a cat with my twenty-first birthday money. I’ll bring it down to show you, next time . . .’ Her voice trailed off uncertainly.
Alizarin thawed a fraction. As they reached the Lodge, he said, ‘That head you did of Jupiter.’
Emerald steeled herself.
‘It’s very good.’
‘It is?’ Colour flooded her face, her witchy green eyes widening in amazement.
She’s pretty now, thought Alizarin. How lovely she’d be if she were happy.
‘Thank you,’ mumbled Emerald. ‘It matters, because you know Jupiter well.’
‘So do you, better than most people. You caught the political animal – or rather the beast – beneath the skin.’
‘I’d rather sculpt you.’
‘No, thank you.’
And the door slammed behind him.
Back in her room, Emerald found a tight-lipped Anthea.
‘I’ve dreamed of bringing you breakfast in bed for twenty-five years. I thought you’d run away.’
Emerald gazed down at the opaque butter on the toast soldiers, the brown egg probably hard boiled by now.
‘I’m so sorry, how gorgeous, I’ll get back into bed.’
‘You’re all wet.’ Beadily Anthea noticed the flushed cheeks, the clinging broderie anglaise. ‘You haven’t been out in your nightie?’
‘Alizarin showed me round.’
‘Alizarin!’ squawked Anthea. ‘You don’t want to waste time on that pinko. Always whizzing off to places like Bosnia to avoid paying his debts, then having nervous breakdowns when he comes back – so rude and arrogant.’
‘He was lovely about you.’
‘In what way?’ demanded Anthea suspiciously. ‘The only woman Alizarin cares about is Hanna.’
‘Jupiter’s Hanna?’ asked Emerald faintly.
‘She was Alizarin’s Hanna, for several years, then very sensibly she decided Jupiter was the better bet. Alizarin would do anything to get her back.’
Oh my God, thought Emerald in horror. To get Alizarin on her side, she’d lied about Jupiter making a pass at her. Jupiter hadn’t mentioned anything about the lack of sex in his marriage either. Oh please, don’t let Alizarin say anything to Jupiter, who’d really been so kind.
‘Eat up your breakfast,’ chided Anthea.
Emerald looked at the skin floating on the top of her cup of coffee and nearly threw up.
‘The Daily Mail want a telephone interview with you around eleven,’ Anthea continued. ‘You’d better not mention this to Oo-ah!, who want to photograph us all at a family lunch. You must choose something pretty to wear from my wardrobe. And this evening, there’s a party for the locals. I can’t wait to show off my new daughter.’
Exhaustion overwhelmed Emerald; she suddenly felt quite unable to cope with such a marathon. And where the hell was Zac?
‘Where did you meet Zachary?’ asked Anthea, reading her thoughts.
‘At Rupert Campbell-Black’s.’
‘Really?’ Anthea brightened. ‘Rupert’s an awfully old friend.’
But when Anthea questioned her further about Zac, Emerald was ashamed how little information she could provide. She must learn to listen more – although she was getting plenty of practice with Anthea.
Nor had she noticed Zac secreting a suitcase into the boot last night. When he banged on her bedroom door half an hour later he was back in his combats and polo shirt, announcing inevitably he was off to Moscow via Heathrow, which threw Emerald into a complete panic.
‘I can’t cope with this lot on my own.’
‘You stick around,’ ordered Zac. ‘After all the trouble we took to get you in here . . .’ Then, pretending to put the little Degas horse in his pocket: ‘The pickings are awesome.’
On the way out Zac had a brief encounter with Anthea, who blushed remembering their waltz into the garden.
‘I ought to be very cross. You tricked me.’
‘Only because I knew how desperate Emerald was to meet with you.’ Staring deep into her eyes, Zac murmured deliberately huskily, ‘Didn’t stop me enjoying that dance. Emerald’s my type, I guess, and you are so like Emerald.’
All very formal and Austrian, he briefly kissed her hand and was gone. Anthea was aglow. Raymond was already dotty about Emerald because he claimed she was so like Anthea. In turn it was nice to be fancied by Zac.
Lunch for eleven under the walnut tree was a disappointment, both for Oo-ah! and Anthea. Zac had already left, Alizarin had gone back to work, Hanna and Jupiter, still burning with resentment, didn’t show up, Jonathan was asleep. Dicky and Dora showed off impossibly and Sienna sat with her trainers on the table, ostentatiously reading Joanna Trollope’s Other People’s Children. Emerald, being small, had earlier clocked love bites under Sienna’s chin and wondered if they’d been given her by Jonathan.
Raymond had been sweet to Emerald, taking her on a tour of the marvellous pictures and sculptures. But he looked terribly old, particularly outside, where Emerald noticed the grey chest hair, the wrinkly face, and the liver spots freckling his hands.
‘Can you move your legs, Sienna?’ demanded Anthea, coming out through the french windows with a handful of silver. ‘I want to lay.’ Then, not wanting a row in front of Harriet from Oo-ah!, she added, ‘And thank you for the pretty scarf you gave me.’
Sienna’s face, that of a captured terrorist, looked marginally less sullen.
‘But d’you mind awfully if I change it?’ went on Anthea, running a J-cloth ov
er the table. ‘The colour is a little too hard.’
‘You mean like you’re too hard for the colour.’
‘Sienna,’ chided Raymond.
‘I believe in telling the truth,’ said Anthea shirtily.
‘Not where baby Charlene was concerned,’ replied Sienna bitchily.
‘Get out,’ roared Raymond. ‘I will not have you cheeking your stepmother.’
‘I know when I’m not wanted,’ said Sienna in a relieved voice. ‘I’m off to London.’
‘Lucky you. Can I go and ride Loofah?’ asked Dora.
‘No, you can’t. You can damn well help me lay,’ exploded Anthea, then, remembering Oo-ah!: ‘If you’re good you can stay up and hand nibbles round at the party.’
Lights were flickering in front of Emerald’s eyes. She could hardly see out of the right one.
‘I’m terribly sorry, I’ve got a migraine coming on, I’m afraid I can’t make tonight’s party.’
‘Mummy’s the one who has migraines,’ said Dora beadily.
After that Oo-ah! gave up and returned to London.
‘Give me your card,’ whispered Dora, accompanying Harriet to her car, ‘I’ll keep you posted.’
Alizarin couldn’t concentrate on work, he too had a frightful headache, and he couldn’t stop thinking about Hanna. She’d never implied her marriage was in trouble, he was ashamed how cheered up he’d been by Emerald’s report, and jumped in hope at a knock on the front door. Looking out of the window he instead found Dora.
‘Can I come up?’
Alizarin sighed and put down his brushes.
‘Daddy and Mummy’s new daughter is something I can do without,’ grumbled Dora. ‘She really takes the biscuit.’
Hearing the magic word, Visitor opened an eye and wagged his tail.
‘Will you give me a pound if I take Visitor for a walk?’ said Dora.
During the afternoon a photographer rolled up from the Mail, and was very disappointed to find Emerald was too ill to be photographed. A reporter, who’d tagged along to get reactions from Sienna and Jonathan, was equally frustrated. Both men struck gold, however, with Dora, who in return for the money to buy a new saddle, posed with Visitor.