She laughed. ‘Well, he’ll just have to eat mine as well – which he is, as you know, perfectly capable of doing. Oh, look—’ She stopped, pointing. ‘A fortune teller!’
He looked at her quizzically, eyebrows raised.
She shook her head, laughing again. ‘I know it’s silly, but I’ve never been able to resist a fortune teller. When I was a little girl in Paris there was a woman – a clairvoyant – who used to visit our apartment block; a friend of mine lived upstairs and her mother wouldn’t move a step without consulting her. My mother thought it was a hoot, of course, as you can imagine. She used to call her the Delphic Oracle. But I was fascinated. Claudette – my friend – believed absolutely every word she said; and honestly, she was very often right. I lost a ring and she told me where to find it. I never did understand how she did that.’
‘Didn’t that impress your mother?’
Annie laughed. ‘Oh, don’t be silly! You’d have to do a lot more than that to impress Mother.’
‘I’d noticed.’ He smiled, nodded towards the fortune teller’s booth. ‘Do you want to have a go?’
Annie hesitated. ‘You wouldn’t think I was being silly?’
‘Of course not. It can’t do any harm; it’s only a bit of fun.’ He dug into his pocket, pulled out a small coin. ‘Here. Cross her palm with silver. I’ll stay here and wait for Davie.’
She took the coin, tossed it into the air and caught it. ‘Why not? I won’t be long.’
‘Where’s Mother?’ Davie asked as he joined Richard a few minutes later, cornet in hand. His eyes fell upon the fortune teller’s booth. ‘Uh-oh, all right, you don’t have to tell me.’ He licked at the ice cream, neatly and meticulously smoothing it with his tongue. ‘She can’t walk past a fortune teller’s.’
‘So she told me.’ Richard grinned. ‘There are worse vices.’
Davie held out the ice cream. ‘Would you like a lick?’ he asked in a friendly tone.
‘Er, no, thank you. Look, there’s a bench over there. Let’s sit down while we’re waiting.’
A few minutes later Annie emerged, smiling, from the dark little booth. Richard stood up as she joined them. She eyed him speculatively. ‘You’re tall, all right,’ she said contemplatively, ‘and you are quite dark. But—?’
Eyes dancing with mischief, she let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.
He laughed and kissed her. ‘Perish the thought you should fall for my looks,’ he said. ‘Where would that leave me in twenty years? Come on, you batty little thing, time to go.’
The hotel was situated on the front at the quieter end of the town. The house itself was charming – built, like so much of Brighton, in the Regency period. Its wooden floors were polished to a glossy sheen, and the tall, elegant windows were draped in velvet; but for all that there was a welcoming air of homely comfort about it. There were flowers everywhere, and in the sitting room the armchairs were large and soft and the shelves were full of books and games.
The couple who ran the hotel were as charming as the establishment, and the smartly dressed maids were efficient and cheerful. ‘It’s delightful,’ Annie said sincerely, over a cup of tea in the elegant dining room. ‘I didn’t expect anything like this!’
‘My room looks over the sea,’ said Davie, through a mouthful of cream scone, ‘and it’s ever so big. Mr Sutton said there’s a toy train set in the attic that his son used to play with. He says he’ll show it to me tonight, while you two are out.’
‘That’s kind of him.’ Annie nibbled her lip for a moment, casting a small, doubtful glance at Richard from beneath her lashes. ‘It must be very… expensive?’ she ventured.
Richard shrugged. Smiled. ‘Nice things usually are, I find,’ he said gently.
‘But—’
He shook his head sharply and held up his hand. ‘No. No, no, no. This is my treat. All I want you to do is enjoy it. How much it costs is nothing to do with anything.’
‘Does that mean I can have another scone?’ Davie asked innocently.
* * *
‘Are you having a good time?’ Richard’s voice was quiet, his mouth very close to Annie’s ear.
Annie drew closer to him and shut her eyes for a moment, her head on his shoulder. ‘Wonderful.’ As they had discovered before, they danced together in perfect, unthinking harmony. The band swung into a foxtrot, and a young man stepped to the front of the stage and began to croon. Annie leaned back in Richard’s arms and looked up into his face with a smile. The dance floor was crowded, the Grand Hotel and its glittering clientele were both the very height of stylish elegance. The clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation and laughter sounded a counterpoint to the syncopated swing of the dance band. Richard’s arms tightened about her. ‘Come and sit down,’ he said. ‘There’s something I want to ask you.’
She giggled delightedly. They were on their second bottle of Champagne. ‘Something you asked me once before?’ she asked, her head on one side and grinning like an urchin.
He tried to suppress his laughter. ‘Yes.’
‘Then that’s the answer. Yes. Yes. Yes.’ She leaned back, her hair swinging, and let him lead her into a deft and practised spin. ‘Yes,’ she added again for good measure, as they moved smoothly into the steps of the dance.
He was laughing now. ‘You don’t know what I’m going to ask you,’ he protested.
She put her head on one side again. ‘True,’ she said, with the solemnity of the very slightly tipsy. ‘All right. Let’s sit down, so you can do it.’ She stopped dancing so suddenly that he almost lost hold of her, and another couple narrowly missed colliding with them. ‘Come on.’ She took his hand in hers and led him off the dance floor to their table, where she sat down, put her elbows on the table, her chin on her folded hands and looked at him enquiringly. She was wearing the green dress and had flowers in her hair. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, her cheeks glowed with it. Her creamy shoulders were smooth as satin.
Richard sat wordless, an odd, suddenly unfathomable look on his face. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, puzzled.
There was a moment of silence, then, ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘Do you know that?’
She had had enough to drink to have lost all trace of the self-consciousness that so often plagued her. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply. ‘So are you. And yes, please, I would like to marry you.’
He shouted with laughter, took her hand. ‘Annie! I haven’t asked you yet!’
‘You are going to, though, aren’t you?’ she asked composedly. She was aware that diners at other tables were watching them, their attention caught, and cared not a jot.
He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her fingertips. ‘Yes, I am.’
She waited. ‘Well, go on, then,’ she said encouragingly, after a moment.
He was laughing so much he could hardly speak. ‘My darling – will you marry me?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘When?’
She shrugged. ‘Whenever you like.’
‘How about the day after tomorrow?’
That – as he had obviously intended – took the wind out of her sails entirely. She stared at him. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Perfectly,’ he said calmly. His eyes were steady.
She put her hands to her cheeks. ‘But – how? We can’t—?’
‘Special licence,’ he said. ‘I enquired.’
She took several deep breaths, watching him. ‘I wish I hadn’t drunk so much,’ she said, plaintive but honest. ‘I’m having a little bit of difficulty keeping up with this.’
He laughed, reached for her hands. ‘Silly,’ he teased, ‘I’m joking. Of course I wouldn’t rush you into it like that.’ He put his head on one side, contemplating her with narrow, amused eyes. ‘You can have a week,’ he said.
She opened her mouth, shut it again.
Richard reached for the Champagne bottle, leaned across the table and refilled first her glass, then his own. Annie was still staring at
him, dumbstruck. He picked up his own glass, nodded smiling towards hers. She picked it up. Richard toasted her: ‘To us!’
‘To us,’ she agreed a little distractedly. Then added inconsequentially, ‘Having a special licence doesn’t mean you can’t wear a big hat, does it? If it does, Mother will kill me.’
* * *
‘All right,’ Richard said later, ’a fortnight. That’s surely plenty of time? After all, it’s not as if we’re getting married in Westminster Abbey with a dozen pageboys, is it?’ They were walking hand in hand along the dark beach, the sea washing to their feet. Annie’s inhibitions, to her own surprise, appeared to have deserted her entirely. She wandered barefoot on cool, sandy feet, her shoes and her stockings tucked into the pockets of Richard’s dinner jacket.
‘Where will we marry?’ she asked curiously.
‘The Register Office in Kew, I would imagine.’
She swung round to look at him in the sparkling lights of the promenade. ‘And where will we live?’
‘We don’t have to decide that, do we? We’re lucky enough to have a choice. Davie obviously wants to stay at Kew during term time. My place in Hampstead will be handy for town. Why change that?’
‘It all seems too good to be true, doesn’t it?’ Despite herself, her words were just a little anxious.
He stopped walking, turned and drew her into his arms. ‘No. It doesn’t.’ He kissed her, a long, tender kiss that made her suddenly tremble.
When he lifted his head she stayed in the circle of his arms, looking up into his face. ‘I don’t she began, and then stopped, her cheeks warm in the darkness.
‘What?’
She shook her head, giggling a little. ‘No, we couldn’t. It would scandalise that nice Mr and Mrs Sutton.’
Catching her drift he threw back his head and laughed, but then sobered. ‘And Davie. Don’t forget Davie. Darling – in a couple of weeks we’ll be man and wife. Don’t let’s spoil that.’
She nodded, linked her hand with his again and they walked slowly on. ‘Are we going to have a honeymoon?’ she asked.
‘Well, of course we are.’
‘Where?’
‘Where would you like?’
She shrugged a little. ‘I… don’t know. You choose.’
There was a moment’s silence. Then, ‘I don’t suppose,’ he asked carefully, ‘that you would consider Paris?’
She stiffened. ‘No.’ She turned her head, not looking at him.
They walked on in a silence that was not as easy as it had been. ‘Annie,’ Richard said at last, ‘isn’t it time you tried to do something about this phobia of yours? I spend a lot of time in Paris. Dammit, you’re half French, and so is Davie. Is it fair that he’s never seen his father’s city, the city in which he was conceived and born?’
There was an overly long and rather difficult silence. Then, ‘I can’t help it,’ she said quietly. There was a in her voice, an obstinate set to her chin. She turned to look out over the sea. In the far distance a ship was passing, forging through the Channel waters; her decks were lit like a Christmas tree and light streamed from her portholes. ‘Don’t you think I would if I could?’ There was a kind of desperation in the words. ‘I’ve told you, I know it’s irrational. But I can’t help it. Davie went on a school trip a little while ago, to the Tower of London. They went by river boat. I worried myself sick. I swear I very nearly had a nervous breakdown. I know it’s irrational. I hate it. If I could cure it I would. But I can’t. Please, Richard, leave it be.’
He put a reassuring arm about her shoulders and bent his head so that his cheek touched her hair. ‘All right, all right. I’m sorry. But tell me one thing – if there were a way to cure it, would you try?’
‘Of course I would.’
‘Well, we’ll see.’ He paused. ‘It’s just, well, I’ve been thinking. I have a friend—’ he went on. His eyes were watchful, a little wary. ‘A very good friend. A doctor, who specialises in’ – he hesitated – ‘in this sort of thing.’
Still on the defensive, she picked that up sharply enough. ‘What do you mean “this sort of thing”? You make it sound like some kind of aberration!’
He shook his head impatiently. ‘Of course I don’t mean any such thing. You said you’d be willing to try. I know someone who might be able to help, that’s all—’
She sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to jump like that. Of course I’d be willing to talk to your friend.’
‘Well, we don’t have to think about it just yet, do we? I’ll have a chat with him, see what he says. For now, the important thing is the honeymoon. North, south, east or west – which would you prefer?’
She was quiet for a little while longer, then shaking off her moment’s sombreness she raised her head, smiling again. ‘I told you. I really don’t mind.’
‘A surprise, then?’
She looked up at him in delight. ‘What a lovely idea! Yes, please.’
‘Right. Well, I suppose we need to be practical. Big wedding? Small? Fancy? Simple? Trillions of guests or none at all? It’s entirely up to you. We can pick up a couple of witnesses from the street if you like; it’s all just as legal.’
She thought for a moment. ‘I’d much prefer it small, and simple. It’s going to get terribly complicated if we try to invite everyone, isn’t it? And all at such very short notice. Shall I tell you what I’d rather do?’
He waited.
‘I’d like a really small wedding – just us, Davie, Mother, someone for you – and then a bit later in the year, after we’re settled, we can throw a great big party to introduce our friends to each other. And to us, if you see what I mean. Whatever you say, it has all happened rather fast. There’ll be some very surprised people about. We may as well give them the chance to get used to the notion—’ She stopped.
‘That you’re marrying me and not Fergus?’ He was gently amused.
‘Well – yes – I suppose so.’ She cast a sly glance at him. ‘Most of my friends thoroughly approved of Fergus,’ she said with mock primness.
He grinned. ‘And you don’t think they’ll approve of me?’
She squeezed his arm. ‘As Davie would say – they’ll be green with envy.’
They had almost reached the hotel. Richard handed Annie her shoes, held her steady, laughing, as she squeezed her damp bare feet into them, and they started up the beach to the roadway. Just before they reached it Annie stopped and turned, surveying the moonlit beach, the silvered, shimmering water, the glittering lights of the piers. ‘I’ll always remember this moment,’ she said, and then was in his arms, fierce and demanding, trembling with need.
Richard it was who, at last, gently but very firmly put her from him, shaking his head a little. ‘Time to go in.’
‘Must we?’
‘Yes.’ She sensed rather than saw his sudden grin. ‘Don’t forget that Davie’s room overlooks the beach. It might be just a little embarrassing if he’s waiting up for us!’
* * *
They broke the news to Davie the next day, over an excellent breakfast. While unsurprised he was clearly delighted, beaming at the pair of them in a positively proprietary way. ‘Now we can be a proper family,’ he announced with satisfaction; and for a short and surprising moment Annie found she was in danger of shedding a tear.
Richard looked at her, faint concern in his eyes. ‘You’re very quiet this morning? And pale. And you haven’t eaten your breakfast. Are you all right? Didn’t you sleep well?’
She smiled a little wanly, shaking her head faintly, pushing her plate away. ‘Too much Champagne, I expect,’ she said, touching her fingertips to her head. ‘Again. You really are getting me into bad habits, you know.’
‘That was smashing,’ Davie announced, taking a crust of bread and cleaning the very last vestiges of a breakfast that would have defeated many a grown man from his plate. ‘Can we go down to the beach, please? I’d like to collect some more shells and things.’
‘Of course. We don’t ha
ve to go back to London until this afternoon.’ Richard pushed his chair back from the table. ‘I’ll fetch my camera. I wanted to get some pictures.’
Annie still had her hand to her head. ‘Would you mind very much if I didn’t? I really didn’t have a good night. I think I’d like to lie down for an hour or so.’
Richard peered at her, concerned. ‘Are you sure you’re not unwell?’
‘Oh, no. Of course not.’ She forced a smile. ‘I told you, I’m tired, that’s all. You go ahead. I’ll meet you later if you like. How about the Grand at eleven for coffee?’
‘That’d be wizard,’ Davie said enthusiastically. ‘I expect they do great biscuits in a place like that.’
‘Come on, monkey.’ Richard ruffled his hair affectionately and stood up. ‘You are sure you don’t mind?’ he asked Annie.
‘No, no. Off you go. I’ll see you at eleven.’
‘I’ll go and get my bucket and spade.’ Davie raced off and then, remembering where he was, slowed to a sedate walk before taking the stairs two at a time and flying along the corridor to his bedroom.
When he got back downstairs his mother had gone and Richard, in blazer and flannels, was waiting for him in the hall. They crossed the road and went down on to the beach, freshly washed by the receding tide. The air was clear and salty and still held traces of an early morning chill. The wet sand and pebbles glistened in the sunshine, and a breeze blew in from the sea. Davie ran to the water’s edge and in no time was absorbed in his hunt, eyes intent upon the sands, every now and then hunkering down to examine some find, poking with his long, sun-tanned finger before scooping it up, washing it in the lapping water and dropping it into his brightly coloured tin bucket. Richard watched him with a smile. With his long bare legs and tousled, sun-bleached hair – he had managed to evade his mother’s rules on the hated sun hat this morning – he was the very picture of mischievous, innocent boyhood.
His face suddenly sombre, Richard reached into his pocket for his cigarette case.
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