Sleeping Arrangements

by Madeleine Wickham

  ‘Sam, this is a grown man we’re talking about here,’ said Philip. ‘His idea of fun and yours might be slightly different.’ Sam looked at him indignantly.

  ‘Don’t you believe me? Mum, you believe me.’

  Chloe opened her mouth to speak and found she couldn’t. Her mind was working too fast. Tracking back, remembering conversations, remembering idle remarks here and there. Gerard’s bright eyes watching her across the dining room. His little digs at Philip. Asking her casually once if she would ever consider being unfaithful. Pouring her a glass of chilled sherry one summer’s evening; telling her she needed a lover. She’d laughed. They’d all laughed.

  ‘The cleaner’s children were here! They know all about it!’

  ‘Sam, has it occurred to you that they may be bored?’ Philip was saying. ‘That they may be making things up?’

  ‘But it all makes sense!’ Sam’s voice rose in frustration. ‘I mean, why else are we all here together?’

  ‘We’re here because of a mistake!’ said Philip. ‘My goodness, you young are paranoid!’ He turned to Chloe, smiling. ‘Can you believe this?’

  ‘No,’ said Chloe, in a voice that didn’t sound like her own. ‘It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘Well, let’s phone him up, then,’ said Sam belligerently. ‘Ask him if it’s true. Put him on the spot.’

  ‘Sam,’ said Philip sharply. ‘Gerard has been extraordinarily kind, letting us come and stay in this villa. If you really think we’re going to phone him up and start accusing him of playing some elaborate practical joke on us …’

  ‘But that’s just what he’s done! They said he knew there would be eight people here—’

  ‘And you spoke to these people yourself?’

  ‘No,’ said Sam after a pause. ‘But Jenna said …’

  ‘Oh, Jenna said. I see.’ Philip sighed. ‘Sam, don’t you think this might just be another of Jenna’s little pranks?’ Sam stared silently at Philip for a few moments. Then, stubbornly, he shook his head.

  ‘No. I think it’s true.’

  ‘The truth is Out There,’ put in Nat solemnly. Everyone turned to look at him and he blushed.

  ‘Exactly!’ said Sam. ‘Nat’s right. There’s something going on.’

  ‘You’re both wrong,’ said Philip firmly, ‘and I’m getting a bit tired of this conspiracy theory. There is no plot, there are no aliens—and crop circles are, I’m afraid, made by people with nothing better to do. Come on, Nat.’ He put down his wine glass. ‘If you talk to Jenna nicely, she might rustle you up something to eat. And Sam—either you stay with the grown-ups and behave like a grown-up, or you come in with Nat and watch a video.’

  There was a pause. Then, sulkily, Sam put down his glass and followed Philip and Nat towards the villa.

  When they had gone, there was silence. Chloe stared at Hugh. She felt skewered to the ground; paralysed by this realization which now seemed so obvious, she could hardly believe she hadn’t worked it out for herself. Hugh was smiling back at her as though he had no idea what was going on. She wanted to hit him for being so slow.

  ‘You see what this is?’ she said at last.

  ‘What?’ said Hugh.

  ‘Don’t you see what’s happened?’

  ‘No.’ Hugh shrugged. ‘What’s happened?’ Chloe closed her eyes briefly, feeling a dagger of frustration.

  ‘He set us up,’ she said, opening them again. ‘Gerard set the two of us up. That’s what this is all about. The whole holiday is just a device to get us to … to …’ She broke off and Hugh laughed.

  ‘Chloe, calm down. You’re sounding just like Sam.’

  ‘Well, why else are we here? We should have known it wasn’t a coincidence.’ Chloe shook her head. ‘Things like this don’t happen by mistake. There’s always a reason.’

  ‘Things do happen by mistake!’ retorted Hugh easily. ‘Of course they do. I tell you, there are far more coincidences in this world than conspiracies. Philip’s right. There isn’t a huge plot out there. Most things happen through a mixture of chance and human error.’ He came towards her, his face relaxed. ‘Chloe, Gerard probably doesn’t even know we ever knew each other.’

  ‘He does!’ Chloe took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. ‘He was there when we met, for God’s sake!’

  ‘And you think he’s really likely to have set up an entire holiday just to throw us together?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Chloe was silent for a few moments. ‘Yes.’ She looked up. ‘Yes. I think I do. It’s the kind of thing he would do.’ She took a few steps away from Hugh, trying to clear her mind. ‘I know how Gerard’s mind works,’ she said slowly. ‘He loves stirring. He adores awkward situations. I’ve seen him at it with other people. I’ve laughed at other people with him. I just … I never dreamed I would be one of his targets.’ She looked at Hugh. ‘He probably met you again, and remembered about us, and thought what fun it would be to set us up. He’s never got on with Philip, that’s no secret …’ Chloe broke off and closed her eyes. ‘Sam’s right, he’s probably rubbing his hands with glee …’

  ‘Look, Chloe, you don’t know any of this.’ Hugh came forward and put a hand on her shoulder, and she swung away from him.

  ‘Don’t.’ She gave a little shudder and thrust her hands into the pockets of her linen jacket, staring ahead at the swimming pool. ‘I feel so … sordid,’ she said in a low voice. ‘So horribly predictable.’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ exclaimed Hugh. ‘It’s not such a big deal! Even if Gerard did set us up—’

  ‘Of course it’s a big deal!’ Chloe lashed back angrily. ‘He set us a nice little trap … and we fell straight into it. Like a couple of …’ She broke off abruptly. In the distance, there was the sound of shouting in Spanish; a moment later a motorbike started up and zoomed away into the hills. ‘And it didn’t take us long, did it?’ added Chloe without turning round. ‘We didn’t exactly hang about.’

  ‘Maybe it wasn’t a trap,’ said Hugh after a pause. ‘Maybe Gerard isn’t as malevolent as you think. Suppose he did set us up to some extent—well, maybe he did it to give us an opportunity.’ He touched the back of her neck and she gave an almost imperceptible shiver. ‘Maybe Gerard wanted us to have each other again.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘We can’t,’ muttered Chloe, staring into the deepening colours of the swimming pool. ‘Hugh, we can’t.’

  ‘We can.’ He bent to kiss the back of her neck and for a few seconds she closed her eyes, unable to resist the awakened feelings flooding back into her body. Then she broke away from his touch.

  ‘Chloe,’ said Hugh as she began to walk away. ‘Where are you going?’ Chloe swivelled and looked at him, her face flushed with emotion. Then she turned back and continued towards the villa without answering.

  The study was empty. Chloe walked straight into it, shut the door and sat down at the desk. Everywhere she looked, she could see Gerard’s face, smooth and buffed and smug. Cocooned in his safe little world, where a good wine mattered more than a person; where relationships were fodder for gossip, nothing more. She had thought he cared about her. She had thought their friendship extended beyond mere entertainment value. How could she have misjudged him so drastically?

  ‘How could you?’ she said aloud. ‘How could you do this to me? We’re supposed to be friends.’ She felt emotion rising inside her; a hotness threatening her eyes. ‘How could you bring him back into my life like this?’ She stared at a photograph of Gerard improbably mounted on a large black horse. ‘It’s not fair, Gerard. I’ve done my best. I’ve got on with life, I’ve been happy, I’ve made it all work. But this …’ She swallowed hard. ‘This is too much. This isn’t fair. I’m not strong enough.’ She clamped a fist to her forehead and stared down at the grain of the desk. ‘I’m not strong enough,’ she whispered again.

  She closed her eyes and kneaded her temples, trying to gain perspective. Trying to regain the inner strength and conviction on which she had always relied.
But the will was gone; the energy was gone. She felt soft and pliant as a leaf.

  The telephone rang, and she jumped. She picked up the receiver and held it cautiously to her ear.

  ‘Erm … Hola?’ she said into the receiver. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said a brisk female voice. ‘Might I possibly leave a message for Amanda Stratton?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Chloe. ‘Yes. Or I could go and get her …’

  ‘No,’ replied the voice hastily. ‘No, don’t do that. If you could just tell her that Penny rang, the granite is stuck on the M4, and does she want us to move on to the conservatory?’

  ‘Right,’ said Chloe, staring down at the words she had written. They made no sense to her whatsoever. ‘Granite, conservatory.’

  ‘She’ll know what I mean. Thank you so much.’ The voice disappeared and Chloe was left alone again. She stared at the telephone, dark green and elegant. On a sudden impulse, she dialled Gerard’s number.

  ‘Hello. Gerard’s unfortunately too busy to come to the phone right now …’

  As Chloe heard his smug, silky voice, hundreds of miles away in London, she felt sick. Of course Gerard had set her up; had set them all up. They should have known something was suspicious. Why else had he suddenly offered them this villa after years of owning it and never even mentioning it? Why had the invitation suddenly arrived, out of the blue? She put the receiver down, before Gerard finished speaking, her hand trembling slightly.

  ‘Philip was right about you all along,’ she said to Gerard’s glossy, framed face. ‘You’re a vain, selfish little … shit. And I …’ She swallowed. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

  The phrase echoed round her mind so clearly, she wasn’t sure if she was repeating it out loud. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

  For a few moments she sat perfectly still as the words faded and her mind gradually came to rest. Then, as though from a great distance, she heard the sound of footsteps. Footsteps, she realized belatedly, which were coming towards the study. In panic, her eyes darted fruitlessly around the room searching for a place to hide. But it was too late. Whoever this was would find her here, like a soft creature in its shell. She sat transfixed by fear, her heart thumping, her hands sweaty in her lap.

  When the door opened and Philip walked in she stared at him in speechless fright. What did he know? What had he guessed? She felt unguarded; unable to dissemble. If he asked her straight out if she had made love to Hugh, she would be incapable of answering anything but yes.

  ‘I wondered where you were,’ he said easily. He walked over to the window and perched on the window seat. ‘I thought you’d still be swigging back the wine!’

  ‘I … I’ve got a bit of a headache,’ said Chloe after a pause. ‘I just wanted to come in and be quiet for a bit.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t quite yourself,’ said Philip in concern. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  ‘No,’ said Chloe. ‘No, thank you. I’ll be fine.’

  There was a pause. Chloe stared at the floor and saw a small red beetle making its careful way over the tiles. Where did it think it was going? she wondered, half wanting to laugh, half wanting to cry. Did it have a plan? Did it realize quite how far away it was from its own little world?

  ‘I wanted to give you this,’ said Philip. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a paper bag. ‘Just a little souvenir.’

  He handed over the bag and with trembling fingers, Chloe opened it. As she pulled out the slender gold chain, she felt ridiculous tears coming to her eyes. She wound it slowly round her fingers, unable to put it on; or to look up and meet Philip’s eyes.

  ‘I got it this afternoon,’ said Philip. ‘I just wanted to … I don’t know. Make it up to you. I know I’ve been a miserable bastard these last few weeks. And this holiday hasn’t exactly gone to plan, either. I know you wanted us to have some time alone.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chloe. ‘I wanted the two of us to …’ She broke off, unable to continue.

  ‘Chloe …’ Philip frowned. ‘You’re not upset by what Sam said, are you? You don’t really think Gerard set us up?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Chloe, feeling tension creep over her. ‘Don’t you think he did? I thought you hated Gerard.’ Philip stared at her for a few moments, as though organizing his thoughts.

  ‘Gerard’s not my favourite guy,’ he said at last. ‘But the idea that he would deliberately stage something like this … Chloe, you must see it’s ridiculous! Sam’s just let his imagination run away with him.’

  Slowly Chloe turned her head.

  ‘You really think so?’

  ‘Of course I think so! Gerard’s your friend, isn’t he? Don’t you trust him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Chloe, winding the gold chain even more tightly around her fingers. ‘I don’t know if I trust him. I just don’t know any more.’

  Philip watched her, an anxious frown on his face.

  ‘Love, why don’t you go and have a lie-down?’ he said. ‘You look like you need it. Maybe you had too much sun today.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chloe, and closed her eyes briefly. ‘That must be it. Too much sun.’ She stood up and walked to the door, then turned back. ‘Thank you for this,’ she said, gazing down at the gold entwined in her fingers.

  ‘I hope you like it,’ said Philip, giving a little shrug. ‘It was just a thought.’ Chloe nodded silently. She could feel Philip’s eyes running over her; could sense his awkward concern. Couldn’t he guess what was wrong with her? Couldn’t he see it?

  ‘Is that a new dress?’ said Philip suddenly. ‘It’s nice. Different.’

  Chloe’s chin jerked up, as though she’d been slapped.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘It … it is a new dress.’ Abruptly, she swivelled away and walked towards the stairs.

  Philip watched her go for a few moments, debating whether or not to follow her. But something in the hunch of her shoulders warned him to leave her alone. She would take a long bath, read a little and then fall asleep, he thought. She probably needed the rest.

  As Chloe reached the stairs he turned and headed out of the front door. The air was warm as he stepped outside, and the sky a deep indigo blue. Tiny swallows were wheeling about in the air, silhouetted first against the sky, then against the stark white of the house. From somewhere he could hear the faint cry of a cat.

  He walked down towards the swimming pool, breathing in the warm, scented air. As he neared the pool, he thought the place was empty; that the entire wine-tasting had disbanded. Then with a slight jolt he saw Hugh, sitting alone in the dimness at the wrought-iron table, wine glass in hand.

  Hugh looked up and saw Philip, then seemed to stiffen. He stared up at him with a wary expression on his face, and Philip gazed back, puzzled. Then, as though realizing something, Hugh relaxed.

  ‘Have a drink,’ he said, in slightly slurred tones, and patted the chair beside him. ‘Come and have a drink. Everyone else has pissed off, and there’s five bottles of the bloody stuff to drink up.’

  An hour later, bottles B and C were empty, and they had moved on to bottle D. Hugh poured for both of them, then sniffed at his glass, eyes closed. ‘Mmmm. A delicate bouquet, redolent of … old boot polish and cat’s pee.’ He took a gulp. ‘Yes, this’ll do.’

  ‘Cheers,’ replied Philip, raising his glass and taking a swig. He had become very drunk very quickly, he thought with detached interest. Perhaps Spanish wine was stronger. Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he had eaten nothing since half a plate of chips in Puerto Banus. He took another swig, and gazed ahead into the deepening, glinting colours of the swimming pool. There was a strange atmosphere in the air, he thought; a tension he couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was simply the enforced nature of the situation; strangers finding themselves in positions of unexpected familiarity. Perhaps it was the heat, which showed no signs of abating, even though night was falling. Or maybe, like Sam, he was imagining things.

  ‘This wine-revi
ewing lark,’ Hugh said suddenly, looking up. ‘It’s bloody piss-easy work, isn’t it?’ He gestured vaguely with his wine glass. ‘All you need is a case of wine and a bloody whasscalled. Thesaurus.’

  ‘And taste buds,’ said Philip after a pause. Hugh shook his head.

  ‘Not required. Gerard certainly doesn’t have any. This stuff is shocking.’

  There was silence and both men drained their glasses. Hugh refilled them, rather inaccurately. He took a slug of wine, leaned back in his chair and looked at Philip with slightly bloodshot eyes.

  ‘So, what do you think about all this?’ he said. ‘Do you think Gerard set us up?’

  Philip stared into his glass for a few moments.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said eventually. ‘I do think it’s possible. Gerard has got a pretty warped sense of humour.’ He looked up and met Hugh’s gaze. ‘He’d probably think it was incredibly funny. Each of us thought we were getting the villa to ourselves. Then we end up having to share. And we can’t possibly complain because the whole thing was a favour.’

  ‘You think it’s just that?’ said Hugh. ‘A practical joke?’

  ‘I guess …’ said Philip. ‘I mean, what else could it be?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Hugh after a pause, and looked away. ‘I don’t know.’

  There was silence for a while. A bird flew down and eyed them for a second, then took off again.

  ‘But as it turns out … it’s not so bad,’ said Philip. ‘Is it? I mean, the house is plenty big enough—and we all seem to get along well enough …’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hugh, without moving his head. ‘Yes, we do.’

  ‘In fact, if Gerard could see us, he’d probably be mighty disappointed,’ said Philip, laughing. ‘He was probably hoping we’d be at each other’s throats. He was probably hoping for bloodshed.’

  Hugh was silent for a few moments, as though struggling with some internal problem. Then he looked up.

  ‘ But what about you? Weren’t you hoping to get away for a bit of privacy?’

  ‘Well … we were,’ said Philip. ‘But you can’t always have what you want, can you? That’s just life.’ He took a sip of wine and looked up to see Hugh staring at him. ‘What?’