“If you’re planning to cut my throat,” she answered tightly, “you don’t have to take me all that way to do it.”
Ted shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I seem to have put a blight on the dinner party.”
“Scarcely a dinner party, just a little light refreshment.”
“On the little light refreshment, then,” he repeated woodenly. “About holidays, though, have you made any plans? You could both do with a break.” He thought privately that Jason was looking strained. The grooves from nose to mouth were etched more deeply and the usually piercing eyes looked tired. Tania’s last comment had lifted for a second the curtain they meticulously kept over their private life. He’d suspected for some time that things were not going smoothly and had heard her name linked more than once with the leading man in her current play. He hoped the rumours had not reached Jason.
“Tania’s anxious to go somewhere bright and noisy,” Jason said now, and the tiredness was in his voice as well. “The south of France or the Canaries. For myself, I just want peace and quiet; the chance to relax.”
“The trouble with you, my sweet, is that you’re such a stick-in-the-mud.” Regardless of the food on her plate, Tania flicked open her cigarette case. “Without me to take you in hand, you’d be old before your time.”
“Possibly. More wine, Ted?”
The evening moved to an end and it was with relief that Ted took his leave of them.
“What a bore that man is!” Tania exclaimed as the door closed behind him. “A bore and a boor! Fancy bringing up that disgusting story when we were eating.”
“You did tell him to go ahead,” Jason reminded her mildly.
“Well, naturally. By that time he’d aroused my interest. And it was so uncharacteristic of him, that flight of fancy. Usually he’s so abysmally solid and unimaginative.”
“Which, to my way of thinking, adds weight to his story.”
“Well, you brood over it if you want to. I’m going to bed.”
But when he joined her a few minutes later, it seemed she’d also been “brooding”. “You weren’t serious about going to that god-forsaken place?”
He looked across at her. The light behind her made her hair a fluffy gold halo and the wispy lace nightdress did little to conceal her lovely body. He wondered dispassionately why she so seldom roused him now; she was as beautiful as ever. Perhaps he’d just outgrown her.
“Well?” She turned challengingly to face him, her arms behind her head as she struggled to unfasten the clasp of the chain she was wearing. He went to help her.
“I don’t know,” he said, replying to her question. “It could be interesting.”
“Not to me.” She paused. “If you won’t go to the south of France, should you mind if I did?”
He slid his hand round in front of her to catch the chain and she caught it and held it against her breast. He said evenly, “Alone?”
“Do you really want me to answer that? Ask no questions and you’ll hear no lies. Wasn’t that the arrangement?”
“Your arrangement, yes.”
She turned to face him, her arms going round his neck. “Have I ever denied you anything?”
“Only your undivided attention.”
“Which you’ve never shown any sign of wanting.” She surveyed him critically. “Damn it, Jason, you’re a very attractive man. You could easily have kept me in line if you’d only taken the trouble.” Her fingers moved up into his thick hair and he allowed her to pull his head down to hers, but his mind was elsewhere.
“I’ll make a bargain with you,” he said minutes later. “You can go abroad if you must, but first we’ll spend a week or two in the Lake District.”
“Oh no!” She moved angrily away. “You can’t expect me to bury myself up there?”
“It’s not much to ask, surely?”
“Just because that bloody man spins us a yarn –”
“That’s not the only reason. Admittedly I’d forgotten about Crowthorpe, but it interested me from the start. That’s why I kept the letter; I thought it might be worth going to have a look at the place. It’s a beautiful part of the country and I am tired, Tania. I need a rest, and I might even feel tempted to do a little writing up there.”
“That’ll be riveting for me.”
“Two weeks at the most, I promise.”
“But we don’t know anything about the place, except that there’s some ancient monument. Big deal!”
“There’s also a Lakeside Hotel. That’ll do for a start.”
“Come to the Lakeside and spot the next murder victim!”
“That’s not in the best of taste.”
“Nor is this morbid interest in the scene of the crime.”
“That’s enough, now,” he said quietly. “I’m going, and you’re coming with me. As part of the arrangement.”
Jason’s decision was unchanged in the morning. Pulling the phone towards him, he dialled directory enquiries and minutes later a pleasant voice said in his ear, “Lakeside Hotel, Crowthorpe. Can I help you?”
“Please. I’d like to reserve a suite for the first two weeks in June.”
“I’m sorry, sir, we haven’t any suites. I can offer you a double bedroom with bath, but I must ask you to confirm the reservation in writing. We’re getting very booked up for June.”
“I suppose that will have to do. Is it a good room?”
“Very nice, yes sir. A lovely view across the lake.”
“All right, I’ll take it. The name’s Jason Quinn.”
There was a startled pause. “The Jason Quinn?” the voice enquired incredulously.
A brief smile touched his mouth. “I doubt if there are two of us.”
“Thank you very much, sir. If you’ll confirm the reservation I’ll see you have the very best room. It’s usually possible to juggle them round a bit.”
“Thank you. I’m most grateful.”
He turned from the phone as Tania emerged, yawning, from the bedroom. “Who were you speaking to?”
“The Lakeside Hotel. We’re booked in for the first fortnight in June.”
“Determined devil, aren’t you?”
“You could say that. Where’s Françoise?”
“She has an English class this morning. I hope she left some coffee.”
“She did. I’ve already had two cups.” He glanced at her. “You don’t really mind, do you? Coming with me?”
“It’s a bit late to ask, after all this high-handedness.”
“I want you to enjoy it.”
“Oh, I’ll have a ball, I don’t doubt.” She moved towards the kitchen. “More coffee?”
“No thanks. I’m going round to see Pen. I heard from Ted that Emily’s not well.”
“Nothing infectious, I hope.”
“Tonsilitis. Will you be in for lunch?”
“No, I’m – lunching with Derek, before the matinée.”
He said steadily, “Then I needn’t hurry back. Good luck for the performance.”
As he started the car he wondered dispiritedly whether he was doing the right thing in rushing off to the Lake District. If Tania spent the time sulking it could be difficult. No doubt it was Derek Paterson who was so anxious to take her to France. He knew quite well they were having an affair. God, why did his marriages go so disastrously wrong? He smiled sourly at himself in the driving mirror. Not like him to indulge in self-pity. He must be in need of a holiday.
“Jason! What a lovely surprise!”
“Hello, Pen.” He kissed her cheek. “Not disturbing anything, am I?”
“Of course not. Alexander’s out playing cricket and Emily and I are just pottering. She’s had a sore throat this week, but I think she’s over it now.”
“So Ted told me.”
“That’s right, he was dining with you last night, wasn’t he? How’s Tania?”
“Tired, I think, though she won’t admit it. The last weeks of a run often get her down.”
He had followed her t
hrough to the sitting-room, where his daughter looked up from a book. Small for her twelve years, with brown eyes, high cheekbones and a fringe of dark hair, she was her mother in miniature.
“Hello, Daddy.” She came over dutifully for his kiss.
“Hi, poppet. I hear you haven’t been well. Sorry about that.” To his own ears his voice sounded stilted. He was never at ease in the presence of children, his own or anyone else’s. Fleetingly he thought of the gypsy twins who’d had such a profound effect on Ted.
“I’ve had tonsilitis but I’m better now.” She was a quiet, polite child, Emily. The epithet “old-fashioned” came to mind, but out of a sense of loyalty he suppressed it.
“Can you stay for lunch?” Penelope asked.
“I’d be glad to.”
“Lovely, then we can take our time and get talked up to date. Alexander’s been picked for the First XI, incidentally. That’s why he’s not here. He’ll be sorry to have missed you.”
Privately, Jason doubted that. His son, like his daughter, was always constrained in his presence.
“How’s the writing going?” he asked, settling comfortably into a chair. “I read a very glowing crit of Sheridan in the Telegraph.”
“Yes, it was most gratifying. I’ve chosen a female subject for the next one, Philippa of Hainault. I became interested in her years ago, when I was working on The Black Prince, and of course those notes will be a help. How about you? Any dates for a world première I can note in my diary?”
“Not as yet, but I’m at the restless stage, always a sign I should get down to writing. The TV business is a distraction but we’ve only a couple of shows to go in this series. I’m hoping to make a start on a new play during the summer.”
Lunch was a simple family meal, unlike the often pretentious fare at home. When it was over, Emily retreated to the den to watch television and he and Penelope settled in the sunshine in the small back garden. The unseasonal heatwave was continuing. After a while he closed his eyes and slept.
He woke to find Penelope watching him, and struggled up in his chair. “Sorry about that! The height of bad manners!”
“Nonsense. It’s a compliment that you feel so relaxed.”
“I’m not making a nuisance of myself, am I, dropping in unannounced like this? I seem to be doing it more often lately.”
“We’re always glad to see you, you know that. You’re looking tired though, Jason. Can’t you get away for a bit?”
“As it happens, we’re off to the Lakes for a couple of weeks at the end of the month.”
“That should be nice, but watch out for the mad axe-man or whatever it is they’ve got up there. Did you see the papers?” She shuddered. “Very gruesome.”
“As a matter of fact,” he admitted, “that’s where we’re going.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“Completely. We’re booked in at the Lakeside Hotel, Crowthorpe.”
“Isn’t that where the girl actually worked? Surely you’ll cancel it now?”
He smiled. “You don’t understand, Pen. I only arranged it this morning.”
She stared at him. “You mean you deliberately – ?”
“Yes.”
“Jason, why?”
“Because I have a feeling something might be going on up there and I’d like to get to the bottom of it. In fact, I was more or less challenged to do so.” And he told her about the anonymous letter.
“Even more reason, I should have thought, for keeping well away. How does Tania feel about it?”
“She’s coming under sufferance, on condition she can then go to the south of France with Derek Paterson. Sorry, Pen –” as pain darkened her eyes – “that was a rotten thing to say. Forget it.”
“But it’s true, I suppose?”
“Oh, it’s true. It’s surprising you haven’t heard; nearly everyone else has. I’ve only myself to blame. It was I who insisted on our marrying, you know. She’d have been quite happy to go on living together, but honest old-fashioned Jack here –” He broke off and rubbed his hand across his face. “I must be tired! Once again, I apologize.”
She said softly, “I’m so sorry it hasn’t worked out.”
“You wouldn’t have me back, I suppose?”
She looked at him quickly, saw that although he was smiling he was waiting for her answer, and regretfully shook her head. “There’s no guarantee it would work any better than last time. And though I’m still fond of you, I’m not in love with you any more. That’s why things are so comfortable between us. Let’s keep it that way.”
“You’re right of course.” His contentment in her company had clouded the memory of the unhappiness that had gone before. Their marriage hadn’t been a success even before he had met Tania.
He stood up, stretching luxuriously. “I’d better be going. I have a recording session at six. Thanks for lunch, tea and sympathy.” He kissed her gently, on the mouth this time, and put his head round the den door on his way out. “Goodbye, Emily. Take care of that throat.”
Driving back through the late Saturday shoppers, he was aware of an aching loneliness. They were happy without him, his little family in Blackheath, and though they dutifully welcomed his visits, they didn’t want him back. He couldn’t blame them, and it seemed his present marriage was going the same way.
He had a brief vision of himself on future Saturdays, visiting ex-wives all over London. Was it possible that he was as bigoted, arrogant and opinionated as his critics maintained, and incapable of any lasting relationship? At forty-one, wealth and fame notwithstanding, it was a sobering thought.
Ten
“Quite a backdrop, isn’t it?” Tania had joined him as he stood at the window gazing across the lake to the wood-covered slopes beyond.
“Spectacular.” He slipped an arm round her waist. “It seems a comfortable hotel, too. You might even enjoy the next two weeks.”
“As long as you don’t closet yourself away working on your new play. Will there be a part in it for me?”
“Do you want one?”
“It would be a guarantee of employment!”
He laughed. “I don’t think you need worry about that. Shall we stroll down to the lake? There’s an hour before we need change for dinner.”
“You do realize we’ll be recognized?”
“What do you suggest? Permanent dark glasses?”
“I’m used to people looking at me but you hate it.”
“I can take it as long as they keep their distance and don’t start haranguing me on something I said on the box weeks ago. That happened to me in Oxford Street the other day, did I tell you?”
“Well, you stir up a hornet’s nest every time you appear. Better be extra careful here, though,” she added, pulling the bedroom door shut behind them.
“They have an unfortunate way of dealing with people they disagree with!”
“Talking of which, I intend to question the chambermaid and see what I can get out of her.”
“About the girl who was killed? Why?”
“I’d like to know what she was doing by the stones. She might even have mentioned something she’d seen up there.” He pushed her ahead of him through the swing doors.
“Don’t tell me you believe that weird story of Ted’s?”
“Not as it stands, but there are fascinating possibilities. I’d also like to visit the school on some pretext and see if I can winkle out my correspondent.”
“Jason, why are you bothering with all this? Are you on one of your debunking missions?”
“Not necessarily, but I feel the embryo of a new play taking shape. You must admit I’ve been handed some promising ingredients.”
Tania said reflectively, “They haven’t found the murderer yet, have they?”
“Not according to the papers. Does it worry you that we might pass him in the street?”
She stopped abruptly and stared at him. “You don’t think he’s still here?”
“B
eloved, I’m not a detective, but if this murder was some kind of ritual, which, judging by the unusual features of it, seems quite likely, I should say the killer is almost definitely someone local.”
“Then for God’s sake let’s keep away from that Circle, in case we see something we shouldn’t.”
She slipped her hand through his arm and they walked slowly through the garden, with its croquet lawn and tennis courts, to the private jetty at the edge of the lake.
“Like to take a boat out?”
“Not just now; I want to leave time for a leisurely bath before dinner. Perhaps tomorrow. I can’t get used to having all this time at our disposal after the tight schedules we’ve been living with.”
“Still planning to go to France later?” His eyes were on a boat out on the lake.
“You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
“Only if it makes me look a fool. Discretion is essential to this arrangement.”
“Lover, if you’re in the public eye people will talk about you, whether you give them cause or not.”
“So you might as well derive the benefit?”
He felt her tense, prepared to argue her supposed rights, and cursed himself for raising the subject at so inopportune a moment.
“Forget it,” he said shortly. “This isn’t the time or place for recriminations. Look at that bird down there. Is it a crow? You don’t often see them as close as that.”
The chambermaid was turning down the bedspreads when they returned to their room. Tania was amused at the awed look she darted at Jason, who promptly set himself to be charming. Leaving him to his interrogation, she caught up her peignoir and went through to the bathroom. His question about France had caught her offguard and she was relieved when he’d dismissed the subject almost at once. Forced into each other’s company for the next two weeks, they would have more chance of making a go of things if France and Derek were left out of the conversation.
She stood for a moment surveying her reflection in the mirror over the basin: wide grey eyes, dark-lashed, petulant mouth and a cloud of pale hair. No sign of a wrinkle yet, which was just as well. Skilfully she removed her make-up, caught her hair up in a bandeau and stepped into the bath.
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