She only said in a low voice, “I think I’d better go and talk to him again.”
Henry sais coldly, “Very well,” and left the room.
She found Ben outside. He came up to her and asked, “Have you been sorting things out with Henry Jones?”
Walking past him, she told him, “I’m not going to take it,” and went straight up to her father, asking, “Dickie – could we talk?”
He got up immediately. Going into the house, they passed Sophia, Julia, Arnoldson, Zoe and the banker’s wife, all dressed for town and carrying parcels. Sophia’s eyes narrowed a little as Dickie said, “We’re just going to have a chat. Not to be disturbed.” As they went through the doorway she turned back to look at Ben, standing in the middle of the terrace. His face was stony.
Out on the terrace Zoe said to Ben, “We’re taking a cruise to St Lucia, just for relaxation. I hope you and Fleur will come? Oh – Joe,” she said to Joe Cunningham-Roe, “will you come to St Lucia with us on Sea Queen Athena?”
“I’d love to,” he said. “We could look in on some friends of mine – Jack Lauderdale? He’s bought Carrie Hassett’s place – they’ve got two charming daughters, both supermodels.”
Ben asked Hugh, “Where did you find Fleur?”
“On the beach,” he said. “She was sitting there thinking, but without a hat. I don’t think she’s a hundred per cent.”
“Sick? Sunstroke?” he questioned.
“Could be,” Hugh said. “I really like Fleur. There’s a lot going on inside. She’s quite sensitive but quite sensible. Pretty bright, too.”
“Fleur’s great,” said Ben. “Attractive, too.”
Hugh nodded. “All that.”
In the darkened study Fleur was telling her father, “I must seem very ungrateful but I think it’s important to make my own way. You did, after all.”
“Do you know how hard that was?”
“So hard you didn’t have time for a wife and child,” said Fleur cruelly, regretting it immediately. She heard the slight sound of the air-conditioning drumming in her ears. Her father looked at her impassively. “I mean,” she said, “what you did was quite natural, but, well, it’s too late now. And I was brought up to earn my own living. It’s stupid, I know—”
“It’s very stupid, especially if you’re about to be bankrupted, as you are.”
“I’m just going to work my own way through,” said Fleur, annoyed that he was talking to her so roughly.
“And how are you going to do that? I’m offering you a new start—”
“And I’m more than grateful,” she interrupted. “But I’ve never had anything from you and I don’t want it now. I’m sorry.”
“So am I, my dear,” he said grimly. “So am I.” And for a second time he stood up and ended the interview by walking to the door. His hand on the doorknob, he turned and said, “Don’t let it end here. If you reconsider, talk to me.”
Fleur sat dazed in her chair. Now she felt cold, then hot. A touch of the sun, she knew. But that was not the only reason why she felt awful. I never wanted to come here, she thought. Grace and Jess persuaded me, but I was right. I should never have come. Then the door opened and Ben came in.
“Fleur, what’s going on?” he asked, kneeling down and taking her hands. “Are you all right? Hugh said you might have sunstroke.”
“Yes. I’d better go to bed.”
He pulled her up, held her close. “Best thing – you’re shaking. But look, before we leave the room, tell me what’s been going on. Is there a problem?”
“I’ve refused what Dickie offered me,” she said.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, horrified. “My God, Fleur, why did you do that?”
“It didn’t feel right.”
“Oh—” he said, about to say more, but holding back. “Never mind. You’re not well. Let’s get you to bed.”
He supported her from the room. They crossed the terrace, Fleur drooping against him, and went towards the new house. He was helping her to slip her dress over her head in the bedroom when Sophia knocked and came into the sitting-room. “Can I come in?” she called.
“Yes,” said Fleur. She put on her nightdress and lay back on the bed, her head whirling. She heard Sophia say to Ben, “What’s the matter?”
“Sun, I think,” he said.
Sophia stood away from the bed and said, “Fleur, I’ll get Dr Browne. He’s very good. And Marie will come in and see what you want. Have a rest for now.”
“Sorry, Sophia,” Fleur mumbled.
After Sophia had gone Fleur closed her eyes. Ben sat beside her, holding her hand. “What possessed you to sit out in the direct sun without a hat?” he asked.
“I wasn’t thinking. I was rattled by Dickie’s offer. I didn’t know what to do. I ran for it. I think I want to go back to London.”
“Fleur,” he said, kissing her, “Fleur – you’re not well. You shouldn’t be making any decisions just now. Lie quietly, wait for the doctor. You’ll soon feel better. I’ll get you some water, you’re dehydrated.”
Fleur relaxed, feeling peaceful and protected. Ben came back with the water and said, “Drink it slowly. You look so nice in that bed – I’d like to get in with you, but I don’t think it would look OK, with the doctor coming.”
Entering, Marie said, “Good – water, that’s the best thing.” Peering down at Fleur she said, “I think it’s not too bad. A day or two will fix it. Don’t worry – English people do this, especially in the winter, even the West Indian people who live in Britain come here and act the same. I’ve brought some nice cool lemonade.”
Valentine Keith appeared in the doorway, an intent look on his face. “Sorry, Fleur. I know you’re not too good, but could I have a word?”
“What?” she said.
“It’s a bit urgent, that’s the thing.”
Marie, expressionless, intervened, “The doctor’s on his way – why don’t you wait until he’s seen her?”
“OK,” he said. “Right – OK. I’ll wait in the other room.” He left the bedroom.
“I’ll go and have a word with him, find out what he wants,” Ben told her and also left the room.
Marie, looking wry, said, “Now, you have a bell. You ring it if you need anything – anything at all,” she repeated with a little emphasis.
“Thanks,” Fleur said.
Marie left and less than five minutes later Ben and Valentine, who she’d heard talking together in low voices in the other room, came in together.
“It’s like this, darling,” Ben said, and somehow Fleur was no longer reassured by his presence. A kind of wariness came over her.
“You see,” Ben said, “Val’s got something Dickie thinks you ought to know. He asked Val to come and explain.”
Lying in bed, she felt trapped but thought wearily she might as well get Val’s statement over and done with, so that he would go away. “All right,” she said.
Val came in with assurance and sat in a chair Ben brought for him from the sitting-room. He himself sat on the bed. They both looked at Fleur as Val spoke.
“Dickie just wanted me to give you a few facts. He got the impression there were things you didn’t know.”
“OK,” Fleur agreed.
“He wonders if you know the extent of his financial support to your mother. As soon as he could, which was two years after your birth, he started making her a regular allowance. He also paid your school fees.”
“What?” said Fleur. She was astonished.
“This hasn’t been mentioned to you?”
“No,” Fleur replied, quite bewildered, not knowing what to believe.
“That’s the impression he got. He doesn’t want to make a big issue of it, it’s only that he got the idea you believe he’d been more negligent towards you than he had been. Whereas, up to a point, he did his best. He was just wondering if knowing he hadn’t been a complete bastard to your mother and you might make a difference to your decision now.”
“I’m not sure I believe all this,” said Fleur. She was feeling really ill now and the proximity of the two men was oppressive.
“He just doesn’t want you to turn him down flatly, too fast, especially as obviously you’re not very well,” Valentine explained. “And let me tell you, a concession like that from Dickie Jethro is unusual. Normally he wants things done quickly, or not at all.”
“Give him a break, Fleur,” Ben urged. “It does look as if Grace and Robin didn’t tell you the whole story. I must admit I used to wonder a bit how they supported that lifestyle on Robin’s earnings. I thought probably your mother had some money of her own. All that plain living and high thinking doesn’t come cheap, you know.”
The awful thing was, Fleur realised, Ben had a point. She’d never questioned her own family’s circumstances at all. Throughout her childhood she’d been given to understand that some people – Jess’s parents, for example – had a lot of money, while her family lived more modestly, driving old cars and taking inexpensive holidays. The implication was that this lifestyle was somehow more worthy than others. But her parents never discussed money, unlike the Stadlens, whose family economics were openly, even brutally, discussed whenever they felt like it, something Fleur found intimidating and even shocking.
The news that the lives of the Carew-Stockleys were based on the City of London and its – from their viewpoint – unsavoury antics pulled the rug out from under her. If this was true, her parents had been less than candid with her. In fact, it meant they’d been keeping their not uncomfortable life at Yarrow St Mary going on money that had been given to them by the kind of man they strongly disapproved of, because twenty-eight years earlier that man had had an affair with a young dancer and absconded, leaving a child behind.
Part of her simply couldn’t believe Val’s story. Another part of her knew it was unlikely a practical man like Dickie Jethro would tell a lie it would be so easy to disprove.
“I’ll ask Grace,” was all she could say. She said it to Ben.
“I can’t see that it makes any difference anyway,” said Ben. “The point is, what are you going to do now?”
“If I don’t accept,” Fleur asked Val, “will he stop the money he’s paying to Grace and Robin?”
“I really don’t know,” said Valentine. “I just can’t understand why you don’t accept his generosity, with thanks. Look at how you’re living, Fleur.”
“Could you leave me for a bit, while I think?” she said weakly.
“Of course, darling,” said Ben. “This must all have come as a bit of a shock.”
“You can say that again,” she told him.
The doctor came in, and after examining her declared Fleur was suffering from the kind of ailment common to visitors from Britain intoxicated by the sight of the sun. He advised a few days’ rest out of direct sunshine and plenty of fluids.
Fleur was left alone after he departed until Sophia came in.
“Poor thing,” she said, “and now you’ll miss the cruise to St Lucia. The doctor says better not. I can’t cancel it now – too many people are involved, and Zoe’s been pining to go ever since we arrived. She’s so delighted George has agreed. I’m dreadfully sorry, Fleur. Marie will look after you, of course, and would you like Ben to stay?”
“No – don’t spoil it for him,” Fleur said.
“Let’s see what he says,” Sophia replied briskly. “Anyway, a fresh lot of books has arrived and we’ll move the television in here and you can lie quietly and get better.”
Fleur dozed. It was Ben who returned half an hour later, carrying a pile of books on top of a TV set. Sweating, he set it up and put the books on the bedside table. He sat down beside her and asked, “What do you think? Should I stay with you or go to St Lucia?”
“Oh, do go,” said Fleur. “After all, I brought this on myself. It’d be a shame to miss the trip.”
“If you’re really sure?” he said.
“The place is full of servants – I won’t be alone,” she told him.
“You’re a darling,” he said, kissing her. “Listen – it’s time for dinner. You need to rest – I’ll go now and come back afterwards.”
Fleur dozed again. When she woke after another hour she saw clearly her world had shuddered on its axis. She must find out exactly what Dickie Jethro had or had not done for her parents and what, if anything, he was still doing. If he was still paying money to Grace, she decided gloomily, that would explain why she was here in Barbados. Grace would have considered that the financial obligation to her father meant she should push Fleur into going on the holiday. Recruiting Jess to help, too, Fleur thought.
She got up and went into the living-room. She dialled her parents’ number in Britain, though she thought they had probably already left for Portugal. The phone was not answered, so she rang Grace’s cleaner and asked her if she had a number for the family in Portugal. She had, and gave it to Fleur who rang it.
The phone was answered by Jim Harrison, who fetched Grace.
“Darling – is anything the matter?”
“No, Mum. No,” said Fleur. Now it came to the point it was awkward to ask about Dickie’s money over the phone.
But she drew a deep breath and said, “Look, Grace. This is rather difficult. My father’s offered me money, a trust fund, but I turned him down. Whereupon he sent my cousin to tell me he’d been giving you an allowance since I was two. He’d paid my school fees. He seemed to think this would make a difference to my decision and somehow – well, it does alter things. So I thought I’d better ask you.”
“Oh, my goodness, Fleur. You refused. Why?”
“I didn’t want to be beholden to him,” Fleur said, pleased to be able to retrieve this quaint, old-fashioned term, with its atmosphere of relationships between wards and guardians, governesses and their masters.
“That’s a rather strange way of looking at it,” her mother said. “He’s your father. He owes you something, surely? I’m sure that’s how he sees it.”
“But about the money – is what Valentine said true?” Fleur broke in, knowing her mother was trying to evade her question. She told herself firmly that if the information Val had given her had upset her she was entitled to upset Grace in turn. It was Grace who had accepted – or not – Dickie Jethro’s money, and had actually, she recalled, allowed Fleur to think the fees for the school she’d been to, though gladly paid, had strained family finances. She waited for Grace’s answer.
“Of course it is,” Grace told her, as if stating nothing unusual. “When you were two, and I had no way of going on dancing, with a child, your father offered to pay me an allowance. I accepted. I had no choice.”
Fleur had grown up with the knowledge that she had put paid to her mother’s career. What she had never known was that she had received regular support from her father.
“You never told me,” she said.
“I never saw any reason to,” Grace replied. “Fleur – I’m standing in the hall here. It’s a rather embarrassing conversation to be forced to have—”
“Yes, I understand. I’m sorry. But tell me – is this still going on?”
“I beg your pardon, Fleur,” her mother said, a chill in her voice.
“The allowance,” said Fleur.
“I really don’t think I want—”
“It’s not a hard question to answer,” Fleur said, in a tone she did not usually use to her mother.
“You sound angry,” Grace observed.
“I’m not angry. I’m in an awkward position here. I didn’t know you and Dickie had a financial arrangement.”
“I don’t see what difference it makes,” her mother said. “I think the best thing is to get Robin to ring you later. This is the sort of thing he does better. Meanwhile, my advice is, reconsider your father’s offer.”
“Grace – I’d be very pleased to talk to Robin, but this is your business. Would you please tell me.”
“About what?” Grace said prevaricating. To Fleur, the con
versation was like a sword fight in the mist.
“What I asked. The allowance—”
“I’ll really have to get Robin to ring you,” said her mother sounding rattled. “Goodbye, darling. So glad you’re having a nice time.” And she broke the connection.
Fleur was incredulous. Her mother had dodged the question and hung up when Fleur pressed it, very peculiar for a person who had always advocated candour and straightforwardness, to be tempered only where kindness or civility demanded. Well, thought Fleur, anyone was entitled to break their own rules once in a while. But Grace’s evasions made it look very much as if the good life at Yarrow St Mary was supported by Dickie Jethro’s payments.
She went back to bed, not feeling well, picked up a book and fell asleep again. Ben came in after dinner and slipped into bed with her, smelling of brandy. Fleur snuggled up to him.
“Sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he murmured.
“You’re here now.”
He kissed her. “Oh Fleur.”
“Oh Ben. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Later, leaning back, he said, “I was talking to that American, Jim Arnoldson. He said there’s a big entertainment department at the legal firm he’s connected with. The bigger operations are taking over quite a lot of film financing, he said, fitting whole packages together. He said they’d be pleased to look at any proposals we could make.”
“Nice,” said Fleur, leaning against him.
“Because I don’t see why we don’t broaden it a bit, get a team together, work out some ideas—”
“Mm,” said Fleur, half asleep, thinking of Jess and the imminent sale of Camera Shake, but deciding not to mention her. After all, Jess and Ben had … Don’t think about it, she told herself. But she did.
They dozed. Again she felt that unease she had become conscious of feeling with Ben.
“Any more thoughts about Dickie?” he asked.
“No. I rang Grace in Portugal.”
“Why?”
“About what Val told me. She was evasive – not like her, really – but it looks as if they did have Dickie’s money all along. Still do, I think. She wouldn’t tell me.”
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