The Four of Us

by Margaret Pemberton

  ‘It isn’t what I want, Francis. You said yourself that when Kiki appeared at the Shepton Mallet Festival the place was a mudslide … and all festivals attract Hell’s Angels. The thought of droves of them descending on Cedar Court is unbearable. It isn’t what Cedar Court is about.’

  ‘OK,’ he said ruefully, tilting her face to his and kissing her. ‘No pop festival.’

  ‘And no managing Kiki’s career?’ Her arms were round his neck, her mouth still only a fraction from his.

  He winced, as if in pain. ‘Kiki’s a hard lady to say no to.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ she said huskily, pressing close against him. ‘Let me do it for you.’

  With a deep sigh of acquiescence, he slid his hand over the thin material of her dress, cupping a small breast in his hand. ‘Are you always going to fight all my battles for me?’ he murmured, amusement as well as desire in his voice.

  ‘Always,’ she whispered, in the second before his mouth closed on hers in a long, deep, arousing kiss.

  For the next week she was rushed off her feet as she helped her mother finalize all the wedding arrangements. Francis opted to stay in his Chelsea flat as, once again, the caterers moved in to Cedar Court and a magnificent, medieval-looking marquee was erected and fireworks were set in position all along the banks of the ha-ha. The wedding itself was to take place in the nearby village church, and there, too, decorations were under way.

  ‘How you managed arranging a wedding at St Margaret’s, Westminster, is beyond me,’ she said to Artemis, over the phone. ‘The choirboy who is singing the solo has gone down with flu. The vicar has suddenly informed me that he isn’t happy for confetti to be thrown in the churchyard and Primmie’s bridesmaid dress still hasn’t been delivered.’

  ‘Well, mine has,’ Artemis had said, pacifyingly. ‘The main thing is, has Kiki’s dress arrived? And does it fit?’

  ‘Yes, to your first query. I don’t know, to the second.’

  Kiki, in many more ways than one, was proving to be a major problem. As she hadn’t returned for a final fitting of her dress, Antonella had simply finished it off without any of the last-minute fastidious attention Artemis’s and Primmie’s dresses had received.

  ‘Are you telling me you haven’t seen her all week?’ she asked Primmie when she phoned her for what was their ritual nightly chat.

  ‘No. She’s begun recording her album and is working, eating and sleeping at the studio.’

  ‘And Simon? Have you heard from him?’

  ‘Yes. He’ll be back the night before the wedding, so we’re going to meet up at the church.’

  ‘And Kiki? Has he broken the news of your engagement to her yet?’

  ‘No.’ Primmie sounded bewildered. ‘It isn’t something he’d ever do over the phone, Geraldine. Just as I’m not going to tell him about the baby over the phone.’

  ‘Yah. Right. Of course. Bye, Primmie. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.’

  It had been a phone call Geraldine had pondered over for quite a long time. Kiki ‘working, eating and sleeping’at the studio sounded very much to her as if Kiki were avoiding Primmie. If she were, there could only be one reason for it: that unknown to Primmie, Simon had already told Kiki their news and Kiki was having problems with it. Worse, the problems were such that Simon was having second thoughts, hence his disappearance off the scene – not because he was ill, but because he was giving himself time to reconsider Primmie’s and his future. All in all, the scenario didn’t bode well for Primmie’s happiness and nor did it help with her own patience levels where Kiki was concerned.

  Every phone call she made trying to contact her ended in failure. Kiki was either recording or not at the studio – and if she wasn’t at the studio, no one at the studio knew where she was. Not until the following Wednesday, three days before the wedding, did she finally succeed in reaching her, via Kit.

  ‘Hi, Geraldine,’ Kiki said laconically when she came to the telephone. ‘I hope you’re not phoning fussing about the dress, because it’s going to be fine.’

  ‘Great. It isn’t what I’m phoning about, though. I know Francis told you he’d take over managing you again, but he hadn’t thought it through when he said it. It just can’t be done, Kiki.’

  There was a short, tense pause, and then Kiki said in a voice dripping ice, ‘Are you telling me that you’ve strong-armed him into changing his mind, Geraldine?’

  ‘I’m telling you Francis has changed his mind, Kiki.’

  ‘If he has, you’ve changed it for him!’

  As denying it would have been untruthful, Geraldine said with all the patience she could summon, ‘It isn’t the end of the world, Kiki. You’ll find someone else. It will be easy, now you have so many contacts in the business.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone else!’

  Geraldine could almost hear Kiki stamping her foot.

  ‘Stop being so childish,’ she said, exasperated. ‘All Francis’s thoughts and efforts are going to be directed towards opening Cedar Court to the public. He simply isn’t going to have the time for other things. You’re going to have to find someone else.’

  ‘Oh no I’m not.’ There wasn’t a fraction of give in Kiki’s voice. ‘I want Francis, Geraldine. And you’re making a huge mistake if you think I won’t get him!’

  She slammed the telephone receiver down with such force that Geraldine winced.

  ‘Oh no you won’t, Kiki,’ she said beneath her breath, wondering just what the chances were of Kiki having got over her rage by Saturday. Somehow, she didn’t think they were too good. Usually, Kiki’s explosive temper tantrums were over in the blink of an eye. This time, though, the issue was so serious there was a definite risk that when she walked down the aisle on Saturday there would be a gloweringly sullen-faced bridesmaid walking in her wake.

  She woke early, at Cedar Court, on the morning of her wedding. It certainly wasn’t traditional for a bride to leave for her wedding from her bridegroom’s home, but she had never had any intention of starting the day differently. Cedar Court was her family home, it was what her life was about, and Francis hadn’t slept under its roof since their return from India.

  ‘I’ll stay in Chelsea until the big day,’ he’d said on their first morning back in London, ‘then I won’t be underfoot while you and your mother are tearing your hair out getting things ready for the wedding.’

  It wasn’t either in her or in her mother’s nature to panic unnecessarily, and they hadn’t done so. Francis absenting himself from Cedar Court had, however, meant that she’d been able to enjoy her wedding preparations with total concentration.

  Pushing herself up against the pillows, she looked across the room to where her grandmother’s dress was hanging in layers of protective polythene. Had her grandmother, on her wedding day, felt so utterly certain of her future happiness as she now did?

  With a shiver of joyous anticipation she swung her feet to the floor and padded barefoot across to the windows with their decorative leaded tracery. The sky was already blue, the dew sparkling.

  Ten minutes later, in jeans and a T-shirt, she was running through the gardens towards the parkland and the oak tree.

  In its high, familiar branches, she could view Cedar Court and its surrounding estate in their glorious entirety. It was hers and Francis’s now – and one day would be their child’s. In the year before they’d gone off on the hippie trail, and whilst Francis had been managing Kiki’s career, she had spent her time with her uncle, studying every aspect of how to care for the house.

  ‘The sooner you take over doing it, the better I shall like it, Geraldine,’ he had said, heavily. ‘A house this age needs constant vigilance and maintenance. Nothing is permanent. Lead on the roof wears thin, a hole the size of a pinhead lets in rain which can soon turn it rotten. Woodworm is a constant nightmare. Deathwatch beetle a torment. Francis simply won’t accept just how much effort is necessary to preserve the house. If it were up to him, it would be a ruin by the time his heirs inherited it. Y
ou, thank God, will see to it that it isn’t.’

  She lifted her face to the already warm, early morning sun. The bough she was seated on swayed gently, creaking like the timbers of a ship. Her uncle had lived in only a few of Cedar Court’s many rooms. She and Francis were going to live in them all, opening them up for the purpose for which they were built; having paintings made indistinguishable by layers of treacle-dark varnish cleaned and made beautiful again; having ceilings restored and old and beautiful carpets mended.

  Her eye was caught by movement at the end of the quarter-mile long drive. A second later she recognized the caterer’s van and, twenty yards or so behind it, the florist’s van. Soon, Primmie, Artemis and Kiki would be arriving. Her day was beginning. The most wonderful, splendid, joyous day of her life.

  ‘But why isn’t Kiki already here?’ Artemis queried, smoothing the sophisticated silver-grey silk of her dress over hips that had once again become quite plump. ‘It’s not long before we have to leave for the church.’

  ‘She’ll be here,’ Geraldine said confidently, refusing to let anything spoil the spellbinding pleasure of the feel of her grandmother’s wedding dress against her skin.

  ‘But the two of you have fallen out, haven’t you?’ Artemis continued, fidgeting with her bouquet as Primmie adjusted Geraldine’s veil. ‘What if she doesn’t turn up?’

  ‘Of course she’ll turn up.’ Geraldine didn’t know whether to be amused by Artemis’s typical pessimism or annoyed. ‘Even Kiki wouldn’t let a falling-out spoil my wedding day.’

  With the veil adjusted, Primmie had stepped towards the window.

  ‘Is she coming yet, Primmie?’ Artemis asked, still anxious. ‘Can you see her car?’

  ‘No, but I’m sure I just saw Simon’s.’ Primmie’s face was radiant. ‘Perhaps he’s dropping her off before he goes on to the church.’

  Before she could rush to the door and run down downstairs and throw herself into his arms, Geraldine said, ‘Don’t even think about it, Primmie. He’ll crush your dress, muss your hair, ruin your lipstick. Wait till after the ceremony for your reunion.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Artemis was staring at them in stunned bewilderment. ‘Excuse me, but why would Kiki’s father be mussing Primmie’s hair and ruining her lipstick? What on earth is going on here? You’re not telling me that Primmie and Kiki’s father are … are …’

  As she struggled for an appropriate, tasteful word, Geraldine’s mother came into the bedroom.

  ‘Simon Lane has just called by to drop a wedding gift off. The vicar has telephoned to say that guests are already arriving. I didn’t tell him that one of the bridesmaids still hasn’t arrived here. What is Kiki thinking of? Doesn’t she know that my nerves will be stretched to breaking point without her making matters worse by being late?’

  The minute she’d gone, Artemis said, her eyes the size of gobstoppers, ‘Primmie Surtees! You’re not telling me that you and Simon Lane are … are …’

  ‘Yes,’ Primmie said, eyes shining as she put Artemis out of her misery. ‘And so you’ll soon be a matron of honour again, Artemis.’

  ‘I don’t believe it! I simply don’t believe it!’ Artemis sank down on the nearest chair, uncaring as to whether or not her dress would be creased. ‘Does Kiki know yet? And if you have me as your matron of honour, will you be having Kiki as a bridesmaid?’

  Geraldine saved Primmie from answering a question she knew Primmie hadn’t yet thought through. ‘I shan’t be having her as a bridesmaid unless she arrives here pretty quickly,’ she said, noting the time on the bedside clock. ‘And once it’s two o’clock, if she’s not here, I shall leave for the church without her. Brides are allowed to be late. Bridesmaids are not.’

  The next person to burst in on them was Francis’s father.

  Geraldine stared at him in bewilderment. ‘Why haven’t you left for the church, Uncle Piers? Shouldn’t you and Francis be there by now?’

  ‘I’ve just come back from the church. His best man and the ushers are there – and so are many of the guests – but he isn’t. I thought he might have called by here.’

  ‘But why should he? We’re trying to follow tradition. We’re not to see each other today until we meet at the altar.’

  With a snort of exasperation, her uncle stomped back downstairs.

  After a moment’s awkward silence, Primmie said, ‘I shouldn’t worry about Francis not being at the church yet. He’s like Kiki. He can sometimes be terribly badly organized unless he has someone chivvying him all the time.’

  Geraldine, acutely aware of just how much she organized things for Francis, bit back any sort of comment. Leaving for the church cross at Francis was absolutely not in her plans. There were still twenty minutes to go before it was two o’clock. By then Francis would be there. And if, when she arrived, Kiki wasn’t part of her entourage, then that was something Kiki would just have to live with. She wasn’t going to let Kiki’s mean-spirited behaviour spoil her day. She wasn’t going to let anything spoil her day.

  The telephone on the bedside table rang. Primmie, who was standing the nearest to it, answered it.

  ‘It’s Kiki,’ she said with blinding relief, passing the receiver to Geraldine.

  ‘Hi, Kiki.’ With difficulty, Geraldine kept her voice unstressed. ‘Where are you? Have you got stuck in traffic in the village?’

  ‘I’m not in the village, Geraldine.’

  The minute she heard the timbre of Kiki’s voice, Geraldine knew she would be going down the aisle without her. Kiki had been smoking dope. A lot of dope.

  ‘Where are you?’ she asked, fighting a disappointment she knew would take a long time to recover from.

  ‘I’m in Rome. I’m starting a series of concerts here this coming week.’

  ‘Great,’ she said, not thinking that it was great at all. ‘And I’m about to get married. An occasion you seem to have forgotten about.’

  ‘No, I hadn’t forgotten. I just can’t manage to be there.’

  There wasn’t an ounce of apology or regret in Kiki’s voice and Geraldine sucked in her breath, stunned by her rudeness.

  ‘And, perhaps more importantly, Francis can’t manage to be there, either.’

  For a second Geraldine didn’t take on board what she was saying and then, so that there could be no possible mistake, Kiki said, ‘Francis is with me in Rome. We may get married, we may not. Sorry, Geraldine.’

  The line went dead, and for a paralysing, stupefying moment Geraldine continued to stand, the telephone receiver still in her hand. As if from a far distance, she heard Primmie say, ‘What’s the matter, Geraldine? Has Kiki been delayed? Is she not going to get here?’

  Not answering her, not turning her head, she dropped the receiver like a stone and, with a howl that was primeval, flung herself headlong on to the bed, sobbing and sobbing for the love she had lost and the future she would now never have.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was a moment Primmie knew she would never forget. A moment when life, for all four of them, changed, never to be the same again.

  Geraldine’s mother, white faced, informed the guests assembled at the church that the wedding would not be taking place. A doctor was called and Geraldine was given a sedative that did little to ease her grief and rage. Francis’s father aged visibly as he took on board the consequences of his son’s action. Artemis gave way to hysterics and she, Primmie, struggled to comprehend what the repercussions of Kiki’s monstrous behaviour were going to be.

  Not, in a million years, could she envisage Kiki and Francis as a happily married couple. They were both too selfish, thoughtless and reckless. Francis needed Geraldine for the stability she gave him and to take from his shoulders all responsibility where Cedar Court was concerned. It was a responsibility Kiki would most certainly never take on. Responsibility, of any kind, was not in Kiki’s vocabulary.

  Hard on the heels of the realization that Francis had destroyed Geraldine’s happiness – and his own – for a relationship Primmi
e was sure would be shallow and short-lived, was the devastating realization that she was going to have to tell Simon exactly why the ceremony had been called off. So far, none of the bewildered guests had been given any details. Simon, however, was going to have to be told – and she would have to do the telling.

  It was going to be a hideous start to their reunion and, as the sedative given to Geraldine began to take hold and Artemis slid her white satin pumps from her feet and covered her, still in her wedding dress, with an eiderdown, Primmie left the room and made her way downstairs with a heavy heart.

  He was still at the church, as were lots of other guests. Whereas they were milling in groups in the churchyard, speculation rife as to why the bridegroom hadn’t shown up, he was leaning against the lychgate, his legs crossed at the ankle, his arms folded.

  It was so long since she had seen him, over three weeks, that despite all the shock and distress and anger that she was feeling, her heart leaped with joy at the sight of him.

  ‘Simon! Simon!’ Her slim-fitting, ankle-length bridesmaids’dress made running difficult, but she ran all the same, hurtling towards him, registering with a stab of shock how deeply unhappy he looked.

  Slowly, almost reluctantly, he uncrossed his arms. She threw herself into them, certain that somehow he knew about Kiki and Francis.

  ‘You’ve been told?’ she gasped. ‘Isn’t it terrible? Isn’t it absolutely awful?’ The tears she’d been holding back began streaming down her cheeks. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Simon, and now, when everything should be so wonderful for Geraldine and Francis – and for you and for me – it’s just all so … so …’

  She couldn’t think of a word that would sum up her feelings. Geraldine’s life was ruined. Though it was just conceivable that Geraldine might, one day, get over losing Francis, she could envisage no scenario where Geraldine would get over losing Cedar Court and of not having her child inherit it.