Patrick’s heart surged with a mixture of pride and terror. Cressida had chosen him to confide in. He had been right. She needed someone she could trust. But what was he to say if she asked him about Ella? He quickly prepared a few anodyne phrases in his mind. Of course, it wasn’t right for Charles to have gone off with Ella like that—but on the other hand, had anything really happened? And although he would have relished Charles’ embarrassment at any indiscretions, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything that would hurt Cressida.
‘It’s about a letter,’ said Cressida. Patrick’s heart sank. Had Charles and Ella been writing to each other all this time? Had the affair never ended? He inwardly cursed Georgina again for having told Ella it was all right for her to come and stay with them. As far as he was concerned, it was never OK for that Jezebel to stay with them.
‘A letter?’ he said, in light tones, ready to downplay its significance. ‘I’ve never been one for much letter-writing myself.’
‘But business letters,’ said Cressida quietly. ‘You do write business letters.’
‘Well, yes,’ said Patrick, surprised. Was she not talking about a letter from Ella, then? ‘At least,’ he added, ‘my secretary does. If anything goes wrong, I blame her.’ He gave a quick laugh. Part of him regretted having invited Cressida’s confidences. Although, to be fair, he hadn’t really invited them. But he had certainly welcomed them. And now he had a nasty feeling he didn’t want to hear her troubles after all. What if she was involved in some sort of scandal?
‘I received a letter yesterday,’ said Cressida, ‘which I think might be a mistake. In fact, I’m sure it is a mistake. But I’d just like to be sure.’ She brought her head up, and stared at him with large blue eyes. Then her expression changed, and her attention shifted to over his shoulder. Patrick turned round, and saw Stephen striding towards them.
‘Hello, you two,’ he said, in a determinedly cheerful voice. ‘Patrick, might I have a quick word? You don’t mind, do you, Cressida?’ Cressida’s face had closed up.
‘Oh, no, not at all,’ she said politely. Stephen grinned.
‘I think the youngsters are about to entertain us,’ he said. ‘But I wanted to catch you before they begin.’ He stopped, clearly waiting for Patrick to rise to his feet. Patrick didn’t know whether to feel annoyance or relief.
‘All right,’ he said eventually, struggling up and brushing down his trousers. ‘I’ll talk to you later perhaps,’ he said to Cressida, then wondered whether that sounded compromising. But Stephen wasn’t the sort to wonder why he and Cressida had been chatting alone.
They walked off together in silence, and Stephen’s face grew more and more scarlet. He could barely bring himself to say what he was planning. The whole subject covered him with embarrassment and shame; he would almost rather have just swallowed the mortgage commitment, managed somehow, and said nothing. But a growing conviction that he needed to sort this all out as soon as possible compelled him at last to speak.
‘It’s about that deal,’ he said awkwardly. ‘I’ve been having second thoughts.’ He looked away, in acute embarrassment. Patrick’s step barely faltered. He was used to this kind of thing.
‘People do,’ he said in a jovial tone. ‘When did you ever make a big decision and not have doubts somewhere along the line? It’s only natural. But I can assure you, you’ve really done yourself a favour.’
‘Maybe,’ said Stephen. ‘But, actually, I don’t think I really want to take out a huge mortgage. Not while I’m still doing my doctorate.’
‘Hardly huge,’ said Patrick. ‘It’s well within your means.’
‘I know,’ said Stephen. ‘I’m sure you’re right. But you know…’ He forced himself to look at Patrick. ‘I just don’t feel comfortable with it. I’m not like you and Charles,’ he added. ‘I’m not used to dealing in big sums of money, and I’m not used to borrowing. I just wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. So,’ he paused, ‘I’ve decided I’d like to pull out.’
‘You really have got it bad,’ said Patrick, giving an easy chuckle. ‘You’ll be laughing at yourself tomorrow, when you remember this conversation. But don’t worry,’ his eyes twinkled, ‘I won’t hold you to it!’
‘No, really.’ Stephen’s voice was firm. ‘I want to cancel the deal.’
‘Well, that might be a bit difficult,’ said Patrick in a thoughtful voice. ‘The problem is, you see, the penalty charges for early surrender. You might come out with quite a bit less than you put in.’
‘But I only put it in yesterday!’ Stephen’s voice rose in outrage.
‘I know, silly, isn’t it? These funds are all structured the same. They reward people who stay the course and penalize those who leave early.’
‘And what counts as early?’
‘For you, anything before ten years. But don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t come to that. If you like, I’ll go through your accounts with you and work out how you can be sure of meeting the mortgage commitment each month.’
‘Patrick, you don’t understand. I want to cancel the deal.’
‘I know you do.’ Patrick’s voice was sympathetic. ‘But if you cancel the deal, you’ll definitely lose out. You’ll have to pay your charges straight away. They could be a good few thousand pounds. I really wouldn’t advise it.’
‘Oh.’ Stephen looked crestfallen. There was a short silence.
‘Actually,’ Patrick said, in a thoughtful voice, ‘there is an answer.’ Stephen looked up. ‘You could switch into our guaranteed investment fund.’
‘Guaranteed?’ Stephen looked up. Guaranteed. It had a comforting ring about it.
‘Oh yes,’ said Patrick. ‘Utterly safe. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this for you before. It’s designed precisely for someone like you, who isn’t keen on risk.’
‘That’s me,’ said Stephen, making a half-hearted attempt to joke.
‘I understand completely. You’re not one of the big-shot investors of our time, are you?’ said Patrick in a sympathetic voice.
‘Not really,’ said Stephen. ‘That’s just it. I’m not happy with debt. Never have been.’
‘Well then, that’s the answer,’ said Patrick, in a pleased voice. ‘What a relief! You leave it all with me. I’ll put your investment in our one hundred per cent guaranteed fund, and you sleep easy at night.’ He grinned at Stephen. ‘That way, you can’t fail to cover the mortgage payments.’
Stephen felt uplifted, despite his reservations, by Patrick’s enthusiasm.
‘And you think that would be a better option?’ he said cautiously.
‘Christ, yes. I should have thought of it before. You get the best of both worlds with this fund. Investment and security. I’ll go through it all with you on Monday, shall I?’ Stephen gazed at him.
‘All right,’ he said eventually. There didn’t seem to be any choice in the matter. He would just have to trust Patrick and hope for the best.
They walked along in silence for a few moments.
‘Out of interest,’ Patrick said casually, ‘why the sudden panic?’ Stephen flushed.
‘Nothing really,’ he said. ‘I’m just a bit uneasy with such a big debt.’
‘But it’s not debt if you’re making more than enough to cover it,’ said Patrick, grinning at Stephen.
‘I know that,’ said Stephen. ‘But I started thinking, I should have taken the papers away to think about yesterday, shouldn’t I?’
‘Not necessarily,’ said Patrick easily. ‘There’s no point delaying something if it’s to your advantage.’
‘But most people would think about it overnight,’ persisted Stephen. ‘At least, that’s what…’ He broke off.
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing,’ said Stephen. Patrick stiffened slightly.
‘Has someone been talking to you?’ he said casually. ‘Giving you advice? I’m just interested to know,’ he added, smiling at Stephen. Stephen looked uncomfortable.
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I mean…’
‘Well, yes,’ said Stephen. He looked away.
Patrick stared at Stephen, filled with a mounting, angry certainty. Charles. It had to be Charles fucking Mobyn. Patrick was almost sure of it. It would be just like that supercilious bastard to find out what Stephen had been talking about to him, and advise him to pull out. What the fuck did Charles know about it? A memory of Charles’ smooth voice ran through his mind. I think it’s a bit much trying to do business with one of your guests. This is supposed to be a party, isn’t it? Keep your charts for the office. Bloody bastard. Thought he was doing Stephen a favour, no doubt. Thought he was getting him out of a fix. Well, he should fucking well mind his own business. Spend more time looking after his wife and less poking his nose where it wasn’t wanted.
* * *
‘You liddle pigs are too old to leev at home,’ said Martina, waving her arms vaguely in the air. ‘You must go to seek your fordunes. But beware of ze volf!’
Toby and the Mobyn twins, each clad in a pink T-shirt, stared at her, apparently amazed.
‘Off!’ hissed Georgina, from the side of the lawn. ‘Go on, Toby!’ Suddenly remembering what he had to do, Toby grasped a twin by each hand and led them off the lawn.
‘Shall we clap?’ whispered Annie.
‘Yes, I think we should,’ said Caroline, and began hearty applause.
‘It’s not over yet!’ Georgina’s blue eyes regarded them with disapproval.
‘Oh, we know,’ said Annie. ‘We’re just applauding the scene.’
The adults were sitting in a row of seats facing the lawn, each holding a drink. Annie and Stephen were in the middle of the row, but Stephen was not attending. The sense of enthusiasm which Patrick had transmitted to him during their conversation was quickly ebbing away and his situation was becoming starkly apparent to him. He was still committed to a huge mortgage. That much seemed plain enough. He couldn’t afford the few thousand pounds, or whatever it was Patrick had said he would have to pay in order to pull out. But was this guaranteed fund really the answer? What was meant by guaranteed? Stephen felt confused. Patrick hadn’t actually said anything about it. Everything was going too fast.
One of the twins appeared on the lawn. He stared vaguely at the audience and began to suck his thumb. He looks so sweet, thought Annie, and she turned to grin at Charles. But Charles was sitting, chin cupped in his hand, staring morosely at the ground.
‘Hello, little pig!’ Annie looked up in surprise. It was Nicola, dressed in what appeared to be a suit and tie, and with a moustache painted on her face. She grinned tremulously at Annie, then addressed the twin. ‘Can I interest you in some extremely fine straw for your house? It’s the finest straw around; you won’t find better, mark my words.’ She fumbled with her bad hand at the catches of the attaché case she was carrrying; the audience was silent. Finally the lid swung open, to reveal a caseful of straw. ‘Look at that, sir,’ continued Nicola. ‘Finest quality house-building straw. Yours for only five gold pieces.’ A snuffling sound came from the end of the row. Caroline was shaking with laughter.
‘She’s brilliant!’ she exclaimed in a muffled voice.
‘So is that a deal then, sir?’ said Nicola. ‘I assure you, straw is the best thing you can build your house out of these days. Bricks are old-fashioned. Straw’s what you want.’ She bowed to the twin, handed him the case and walked off the lawn. The adults burst into applause and Caroline burst into snorts of laughter.
‘She’s wonderful! She’s just like you, Patrick!’ Patrick’s head jerked up in shock. Along the row, faces turned towards him, giggles were stifled; even Charles raised his head and gave a grin.
Patrick turned white with anger. Was that how everyone saw him? As a cheapskate salesman? He wasn’t surprised at Caroline—it was the sort of comment he might expect her to make. But for her to say it in front of all of them—some of them clients—filled him with a hot, embarrassed fury. Especially Charles. Charles, who had told Stephen he should try to get out of the deal. Charles, who thought he was so fucking superior. Patrick could hardly bear to look at his smooth, tanned face. Stephen, after all, didn’t know any better. But Charles did; and Charles knew Patrick had been desperate for the business.
And now they were all sitting there laughing at him. With the utmost control, he forced himself not to get up and walk out. He gave a stiff grin and took a swig of Pimm’s. The other twin appeared on the lawn, and once more Nicola came on with an attaché case.
‘Are you building a house, sir?’ Her tone was confident now; she was clearly enjoying the humour of the part. ‘Might I interest you in some lovely twigs? They really are the finest twigs for house-building. Completely wolf-proof. Guaranteed against wolves of all shapes and sizes. You won’t have any complaints, sir.’ She handed the attaché case to the twin; once again the audience collapsed in laughter.
‘She’s priceless,’ said Ella, wiping her eyes.
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ said Annie. ‘I had no idea she could be so funny.’
Toby wandered onto the lawn.
‘I want bricks,’ he announced loudly.
‘Not yet!’ hissed Georgina. Nicola hurriedly made her entrance. ‘Hello, little pig,’ she said. ‘Can I interest you in some twigs or straw?’ There was a pause.
‘Now!’ hissed Georgina from the side. Toby’s brow cleared.
‘I want bricks,’ he said.
‘Not straw?’ said Nicola hopefully. ‘Or twigs?’
‘I want bricks,’ said Toby.
‘What about some nice cardboard?’ suggested Nicola.
‘I want bricks,’ said Toby. Nicola sighed.
‘You’re making a big mistake,’ she said. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Here you are.’ She handed Toby a brick, and led him firmly off stage.
‘Interval,’ announced Georgina.
‘Aren’t they good?’ said Annie, turning to speak to Cressida. But Cressida was staring straight ahead, with a taut expression and unshed tears glistening in her eyes. Annie quickly looked away, and inadvertently caught the eye of Patrick. His face was thunderous. She quickly looked away again. Stephen was talking to Don; Valerie seemed to be talking at Ella, who was looking surprisingly interested in whatever she was saying. She glanced at Caroline. But Caroline had also noticed Cressida, and was staring at her with blatant curiosity.
‘Act two,’ announced Georgina, in a ringing voice. She eyed Caroline sternly. ‘And try not to laugh.’
Caroline took no notice. She was still gazing at Cressida. The sight of the younger woman sitting wanly, almost in tears, had struck a sudden chord of compassion in her. She and Ella had been laughing gaily that morning about Charles—but neither of them had to go through what Cressida did. The poor thing had quite obviously found out about Charles and Ella; perhaps she was contemplating leaving him; perhaps divorce. Suddenly Caroline felt remorse for her treatment of Cressida. She’d always taken her to be a cold, stuck-up bitch, but here she was, in a dreadful state because of that stupid Charles. A dim sense of feminism rose up in Caroline’s mind. Why should that poor girl suffer because of a bastard who’d only married her because she was rich anyway?
Suddenly there was a roar of laughter, and Caroline looked round to the lawn. One of the twins had come on, and sat down in a big cardboard box covered in straw. Georgina entered behind him, wearing a long, black cape and looking more like Dracula than a wolf.
‘Little pig, little pig,’ she intoned, ‘let me come in.’ The twin looked blankly at her. He was clearly too young to have been given any lines; but from the side of the lawn came Martina’s voice, high and squeaky.
‘No no, by ze hair of my cheeny cheen cheen, I von’t let you in!’
‘Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow the house down!’ yelled Georgina, and charged at the cardboard box. The face of the twin crumpled with fear, and he let out
a piercing wail. Georgina, regardless, began to blow as hard as she could at the box and the twin’s wail turned into terrified sobs.
Suddenly the sound was joined by a cry from the audience.
‘Leave him alone!’ sobbed Cressida, tears starting to flow down her cheeks. ‘Leave him alone!’ She leapt up, rushed onto the lawn and scooped up her son, who began to sob unrestrainedly against her shirt. From the side of the lawn came more sobs, from the other twin, who had decided to join in with his brother. Without looking right or left, Cressida picked him up also, strode towards the house and disappeared in through the terrace door.
Charles remained motionless in his seat for a few seconds, then, as everyone turned to look at him, he stood up, muttering something, and went after her. The others sat for a few minutes in silence. No one seemed quite sure what to say. It was an awkward moment. Then a voice came from the side.
‘Oh dear,’ said Ella in an expressionless voice. ‘I hope I wasn’t the cause of that.’ Caroline looked at her sharply.
‘So do I,’ she said shortly. ‘So do we all.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Cressida to Caroline. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Too much sun, I expect.’ The two women were standing by the tennis court, waiting for the arrival of their partners for the grand finale of the tennis tournament.
‘Too much bossing by Georgina, more like,’ said Caroline. ‘She’s a little Nazi. In fact, it’s me who should apologize, on behalf of her. She’s already caused havoc once this weekend.’
‘Really?’ said Cressida politely. Caroline cursed herself.
‘Well, yes,’ she said awkwardly. ‘Telling Ella it was all right for her to come and stay. She didn’t say a word about it to Patrick or me.’ She looked away uncomfortably from Cressida’s face. How could she have been so crass as to bring up the subject of Ella? But Cressida had obviously got her feelings under control.
‘Extra guests are always difficult,’ she murmured. ‘People don’t realize; they just phone up at the last minute and ask if they can bring their great aunt, or their godson, and one can’t just say no. It’s very trying. I’ve taken to making an extra pudding or two each time, just in case.’ She smiled tiredly at Caroline, who was overcome by a sudden, irrational feeling of guilt. Her eyes swept over Cressida’s pale, drawn complexion; the shadows under her eyes; the slender hand gripping the tennis racquet.
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