by Caro Fraser
‘It’s all right, Enid. I’ll attend to it.’
Enid disappeared. Meg hesitated for a moment then opened the front door.
‘May I come in?’ Dan’s face was grim.
Meg said nothing. She left the door open and went back into the morning room, her heart thudding. When she turned round he had closed the door and was leaning with his back against it. His expression was still the same. Then a second later he crossed the room towards her, flinging his hat on to a chair, and took her in his arms and kissed her.
Meg tried for a moment to resist him, but failed. She kissed him back, and they clung to one another.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about the baby? I’ve been going out of my mind with unhappiness, not knowing why I hadn’t heard from you. And why in God’s name are you still here, with him? If this is my baby, you should be with me.’
Meg gazed at him with miserable eyes. ‘Oh Dan,’ she said slowly, ‘it isn’t yours. I’m sorry.’
He gripped her shoulders. ‘You can’t be sure about that.’
‘Yes, I can. The doctor is. I was pregnant before you and I…’
He absorbed this. ‘In God’s name, why didn’t you write and tell me? I’ve been in hell, not hearing a word from you.’
She faltered. ‘Cowardice. I knew you would find out eventually from someone. I thought it would be best just to let it all – die away.’
‘Die away?’
Tears filled her eyes. ‘Dan, everything has changed. I’m having Paul’s baby. I married him hoping for that, and now it’s happening. I can’t change that, even if I wanted to.’
‘You can’t stand here and say you don’t love me. Tell me you don’t love me.’
She gazed at him helplessly. ‘It doesn’t matter whether I love you or not, because I’m going to stay here and do my duty to Paul. I’m going to have his child, and that is the way my life will go on. I will be without you, and eventually I’ll be able to bear that.’
‘It won’t be enough. As long as you know I’m alive, it won’t be enough.’
‘I will have to make it enough.’ She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away her tears.
He drew back a little, studying her face as though he hadn’t looked at her properly until this moment. ‘You’re unassailable, aren’t you? That’s what this has done to you. The fact that you’re having a baby has put you in some kind of fortress.’
‘If you like. Having a child is one of those inescapable things.’
He turned from her again and walked to the window, reassembling his thoughts. He had his card, and he had no choice but to play it.
‘What if,’ he said at last, turning to look at her, ‘I were to tell you that your marriage to Paul is a sham?’
She shook her head. ‘I know you think I’ll be living a lie, but you’re wrong – I’m very fond of Paul. Even if I don’t love him the way I love you, we can make it work.’
‘I don’t mean it in that way.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘Paul has a lover.’
Meg stared at him. ‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘It’s true.’
She drew a shaking breath. ‘Do you really think that making up ridiculous lies about Paul is going change my mind?’
‘It isn’t a lie. A lie would get me nowhere. Your entire marriage is a travesty, and you need to know the truth. Paul has a lover. Not a woman. A man. I’ve seen them together.’
‘Who is it? Who is the man?’
‘His name is Bettany. Arthur Bettany. You asked me about him, remember? But I didn’t tell you everything.’
She wrapped her arms around herself, as though cold. ‘I refuse to believe it. I know Paul, the kind of man he is. He’s not capable of that kind of cruelty.’
‘Isn’t he?’
‘No, he’s not. He’s honourable. And he’s kind and good. That’s why I don’t believe you. That’s why, when I found out we were to have a baby, I decided to stay with him.’ Something in her expression told him he had made a mistake. Everything he said now, no matter how true, was going to push her further and further from him.
‘Even though you love me, not him?’
‘Yes.’ She barely whispered the word.
‘And what happens when you find out I’m right?’
She shook her head. ‘You can’t be right. You just want it to be true so that you don’t have to feel guilty about what you did. What we did.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, stop deluding yourself! Leave him. Please. Leave him and come with me.’
She shook her head slowly. ‘You are so selfish, Dan. So incredibly selfish.’ He came towards her again, but she flinched from his touch. ‘You came here to damage me.’ Even through her tears, her voice was cold. ‘And you succeeded. Now just go away. I mean it – leave.’
Dan knew there was nothing more he could achieve. He took his hat from the chair and left the room without a word. Meg heard the front door close once more, then the car engine. Eventually the sound died in the distance, and she was left alone and in silence.
*
Paul was due home from Berlin in three days. In that time Meg went over everything, piecing together evidence that might lend truth to what Dan had said. The jibe she had heard Diana fling at Paul, about his being in love with Arthur Bettany. The photographs in Paul’s bedroom. His long absences in London.
But then there was Paul himself. Never once had he done anything to make her doubt that he cared deeply for her. She couldn’t believe that he had married her as a smokescreen for some seedy secret life. The Paul she knew wasn’t capable of that. Yet since their wedding night – and before, if only she had allowed herself to read the signs – their marriage had been passionless. Where was that finding its outlet? Or was Paul simply a sexual ascetic to whom such feelings were foreign, but who would muster the outward demonstration of them in the marriage bed when required? The doubts and questions went back and forth in her mind.
Paul came back at the weekend bearing gifts, full of affection and telling Meg how much he had missed her. She had intended to confront him with what Dan had said as soon as possible, but now, with his solid, affectionate and utterly normal presence filling the house, the idea of articulating Dan’s allegation seemed as unimaginable as the allegation itself.
That evening at dinner, though, she knew she had to find a way. She couldn’t sit talking and smiling with these hellish thoughts racing around in her mind. Paul was giving a mundane account of the inadequacies of the hotel he had stayed in, and Meg could feel the state of her attention and nerves growing more and more fragile. He must have sensed something was wrong, for he stopped and asked, ‘I say, darling, are you all right?’
Meg said abruptly, ‘I have something to ask you.’
‘Ask away.’
‘I want to know about Arthur Bettany.’
It seemed to Meg that her words resonated in the silence that followed. She had been looking down at her scarcely tasted dinner, but now she raised her eyes to his. Paul had paused in the act of cutting up his mutton chop and was regarding her with a curious expression, one she couldn’t read. He set down his knife and fork. She had the sense, one she often had, that while his face gave nothing away, his mind was working rapidly.
‘Well, let me see.’ Paul sat back in his chair. ‘We were at school together. He was my fag for a year. Exceptionally clever chap, first-class cricketer. We sculled together at Cambridge a bit.’ He affected to laugh in puzzlement. ‘But please, what is all this about? I didn’t even know you were aware of the fellow’s existence.’
She could tell he was perturbed and trying not to show it; that, for Meg, spoke volumes. Yet his affectedly casual tone gave her a way back. She could shrug and make up some story about how she had heard Bettany’s name and was simply curious to know more about him. But to do so would solve nothing. She had come this far, and she must find out the truth.
‘What is he to you? I know you see him in London. Is that who you spend all your time with while you
’re away?’ Her voice was as taut as her nerves.
Paul stared at her in silence for a long moment. Still she could not read his expression. Was he angry? Was he playing for time, trying to think up some excuse?
When he spoke, his voice was low and level, and he had dropped any pretence at lightness. ‘Meg, why are you asking about him?’
‘Please, Paul – just answer my question. Do you see him when you’re in London?’
He shook his head. ‘Look, for reasons you don’t understand, this is deadly serious. I must know why you’re asking me and what you know about him.’
His tone alarmed her and put her slightly on the defensive. She felt instinctively that she was on the wrong track. She said nothing for a long moment and then, feeling a little foolish, her voice faint, she said, ‘He’s your lover, isn’t he?’
Paul stared at her in shock. ‘What? Why would you think such a thing?’
His reaction took her by surprise. She had fully expected a blustering tirade of disgust and outrage. But his puzzled surprise seemed entirely genuine. The feeling crept upon her that this had all been some hideous misunderstanding. Of course Dan’s suspicion was wrong. She could see that now. In fact, she began to wonder why she had given it the slightest credence. She leaned her elbows on the table, kneading her forehead with her fingertips.
‘Where has all this come from?’ asked Paul.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Meg, you must tell me.’ When she didn’t answer, he added gently, as though talking to a child, ‘It is vitally important that I know.’
Meg was at a loss to understand why she now felt so utterly wrong-footed. But at least she had a lie prepared for this question.
‘You’ll think me a fool. But last summer, when – oh, I don’t know, it was one day when Diana came to lunch, and Roddy and Guy were here as well. I overheard you and Diana talking, and she said something – something about you having been in love with someone called Bettany. It troubled me horribly. I thought it meant that, well, that you’d had some sort of love affair with him. What else was I to think? And then last autumn when you kept going up to London, spending days away, I began to wonder if you were seeing him. You have photos of him in your room in London. I tried to put it out of my mind. It seemed ridiculous. But I couldn’t help it.’
‘Surely you didn’t really imagine that I would have married you as some kind of pretence?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t know what to think. I just had this idea – you know how ideas build up. Especially when one is lonely.’ She took her fingers from her brow. ‘It’s not true, any of it – is it?’
Paul rose from his chair and knelt next to her, drawing her hands down into his. ‘Of course not, you goose. I should probably be supremely insulted that you should believe me capable of such a thing. But perhaps we should both make allowances for hormones at a time like this – don’t you think?’
At the easiness of his manner her mind faltered. Perhaps she had believed him too easily. She tightened her fingers around his. ‘Probably. Paul, you’ll think me ridiculous – but I need you to swear – swear on the life of our baby, that none of it’s true. That you’d never deceive me, or have an affair with… with anyone?’
‘I swear. I have never deceived you. I would never deceive you. You are the only woman I have ever loved, and I will always love you. And our baby.’
She closed her eyes, and wearily rested her head on his shoulder. Of course she believed him. Here she was, living the life she had chosen, and here she would remain.
2
AS THE SUMMER months passed, Meg spent a good deal of time with Anna Kentleigh, who seemed to treat Meg’s pregnancy as a rite of passage which would gain her admission to some private members’ club. One warm late afternoon in June they were sitting together on the terrace at Hazelhurst, Meg with lemonade and Anna with a G and T, while Anna imparted such wisdom as she had concerning the rearing of infants, which, since she had left most things to the nanny, was not a great deal.
‘Absolutely the first thing I did with all of them was to get them to take the bottle.’
‘Really?’ said Meg with faint dismay. ‘I had thought I would nurse my baby myself.’
‘Oh my dear, there’s no more certain way to destroy your figure. And think what a bind it will be, having to be about all the time. They feed every couple of hours, you know – well, in the early days certainly. I would have missed an entire season’s hunting if I’d breastfed Frank. And you shan’t be able to go anywhere without taking it with you. Parties will be impossible.’ Meg thought she would happily forgo parties and fox-hunting to be with her baby, but said nothing, for fear of Anna’s mild scorn. Much as she enjoyed their friendship, it was marked with a degree of bossiness on Anna’s side. ‘You’ll have a nanny, of course?’
‘I suppose so. I haven’t really given it much thought.’
At that moment Paul joined them on the terrace. He sank into a chair and poured himself a glass of lemonade. ‘Just what I need. Blasted hot in the workshop in this weather.’
‘Do you have a race meeting coming up?’ asked Anna.
‘Not till August, when we go to Italy, but we have a good deal of preparation to do before then. That reminds me, darling’ – Paul patted Meg’s knee – ‘Dick Seaman has invited me to go with him to Germany next month for the Grand Prix. He’s driving for Mercedes-Benz.’
‘For the Germans? Why not the British team?’ asked Anna.
‘We’re not fielding a team. Too flannel-footed at the moment, and not enough money. Mercedes-Benz scouted Dick after he won the British Grand Prix, and I don’t blame them. He’s a hell of a driver.’
‘Seaman.’ Meg pondered the name. ‘I don’t think I know him. Was he at our wedding?’
‘Most certainly. I can’t believe you don’t remember him.’
‘Heavens, there were so many people, I can’t recall half of them. Is he one of your Cambridge friends?’
‘Yes. I owe him a lot. It was through him that I learned to fly. His American chum, Whitney Straight, kept a plane at Cambridge and gave us both lessons. And he and Dick had Rileys that they used to race, which is what got me interested in cars, too.’
‘Isn’t he Lillian Seaman’s son?’ asked Anna.
‘That’s right. Do you know her?’
‘We’ve met a few times. She’s the most frightful snob – stiffest corsets in all England. Fearfully rich, though.’
‘I’ll say, and she spoils Dick rotten. I remember when she bought him a brand-new Bugatti for his twenty-first birthday, and he ploughed it straight into the side of a bus outside Victoria coach station. Now she funds his racing team, even lets him run his workshop out of her London town house.’
‘He sounds quite a character,’ observed Anna.
‘You should invite him down here before you go to Germany,’ said Meg. ‘I’d like to meet him properly. In fact, why don’t we have a bit of a summer party? I’m terribly proud of how lovely the garden’s looking, and it’s an age since we’ve done any entertaining. Are you and James going to be away in July?’ she asked Anna.
‘We don’t go to the South of France until August.’
‘Then you must come. And I might ask you to help me with arrangements, if you wouldn’t mind. I’m a bit of a novice at entertaining a large crowd.’
‘More than happy, my dear.’
‘What do you think, Paul? Shall I draw up a guest list?’
‘With my blessing.’ Paul drained his glass of lemonade and stood up. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I must get back to the workshop.’
*
When Meg next went to Woodbourne House, her plans for her July garden party were well in place, and she told Sonia all about them.
‘I do hope you’ll come.’
‘Thank you. Of course I shall. It sounds delightful. If you would like any produce from the kitchen garden, just say so. There is far too much these days.’
‘That’s kin
d. My own vegetable plot is still in its infancy. I don’t expect anything much from it till next year. I’ll consult Mrs Runcie about what food we’re to have and let you know. Oh, and do bring Avril. Our neighbours’ children will be there.’
‘I’m sure she would love to come. She’s about somewhere,’ added Sonia vaguely. ‘Home for the summer holidays. I must say, I think I did the right thing in sending her to board. She seems, well, more agreeable than she used to be.’ At that moment Avril appeared in the doorway. She was eight now, taller, looking less of a little girl, and wore her dark hair in two stubby plaits. ‘Ah, there you are! Darling, come and say hello to Meg. I’m sure it’s been ever such a long time since you saw her.’
‘Not since my wedding,’ said Meg with a smile. ‘How is school, Avril? I hear you’re enjoying it.’
‘It’s all right.’ She clambered on to her mother’s knee and picked up the remains of Sonia’s cake and ate it.
‘Do you have a best friend?’ asked Meg.
‘No. Millicent was my friend, but then Vera Burton told her beastly things about me, and she stopped being my friend.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t care.’
‘Oh well, I’m sure you have lots of other friends,’ said Meg, though as she regarded Avril’s closed, sullen little face, she somehow doubted it.
Avril swung round and began to tug in a babyish way at Sonia’s long necklace of amber beads. ‘Mama, will you give me my bath tonight? And sing to me while you dry me, the way you do with Laura?’
‘Darling,’ said Sonia gently, ‘don’t pull so – you’ll break them.’ She unwound Avril’s cake-sticky fingers from her necklace. ‘Don’t you think you’re rather big to be bathed these days? I haven’t given you your bath since you were very little.’