Daughter of Riches

by Janet Tanner

‘I’m trying! Now, how about a drink or something to eat. Have you eaten?’

  ‘No, I never eat until after the show.’

  ‘Where would you like to go then?’

  ‘Well I’m not dressed for anything grand, that’s for sure. I usually grab sausage and beans or something similar at the Lyons on the corner. But I tell you what, since it’s such a nice evening, let’s go and get fish and chips and eat them on the beach.’

  ‘Fish and chips!’ Paul laughed. ‘ Well if that’s what you want, that’s what you shall have. Do you know a good chip shop?’

  ‘I do. Come on, I’ll show you.’

  They took their fish and chips, liberally sprinkled with salt and vinegar and wrapped in newspaper, down to the promenade. They sat on the sea wall to eat it, and Viv thought every mouthful was ambrosial. What was it about this night that was so magical? She couldn’t put her finger on it but it was there all the same, a tingling excitement and anticipation, something crackling in the air between her and Paul.

  ‘I heard you were treading the boards,’ Paul said.

  ‘Oh yes – how?’

  ‘From home of course.’ But neither of them mentioned Nicky.

  ‘I thought I’d follow in my mother’s footsteps but it’s not nearly as glam as I imagined. To be honest I think I’d chuck it all in tomorrow if I had the chance.’

  ‘Why don’t you then?’

  ‘Necessity, my dear Paul. No doubt you have heard of the Fall of the House of Moran?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘I’ll bet you have! I’ll bet people are glorying in it. Not that I care very much what people say.’

  ‘Good for you.’

  ‘And what about your family? Are they all well?’

  ‘As far as I know. Except for Mama, of course. You know she’s… well, a bit peculiar?’

  ‘Hardly surprising. God, I wish that monster Hitler had lived to be captured! He should have been hung drawn and quartered for what he did! A bullet was far too quick and easy for him.’

  ‘They’re all pretty busy,’ Paul said, changing the subject. ‘ They are expanding the business. In fact when I get out of this outfit I might just join them.’

  ‘You!’

  ‘Why not? After all, a quarter of La Maison Blanche and the Agency are mine by right and since they were used as collateral then I should think that morally I have a right to be counted in on the rest. And a pretty big rest it looks like being. Bernard is very ambitious and he’s good at spotting the main chance too.’

  ‘Really?’ Viv said thoughtfully.

  ‘Really. Now, if you’ve finished your fish and chips do you want me to see you back to your digs or shall we go for a walk first?’

  ‘Oh a walk!’ Viv said. The excitement was singing in her veins again. ‘Definitely a walk!’

  Nicky pulled down the blinds at the front of the Tourist Agency, locked the door and wheeled himself back into the office. Once there he retrieved the letter which had come with the eleven o’clock delivery from where he had pushed it down the side of his chair between seat and arm and spread it out on his knee. He didn’t want to read it again. He wished he’d never read it at all. Yet it held a kind of awful fascination for him, a twisting of the knife so painful yet so strangely addictive that he knew he would read it again not just once but many times until it was imprinted on his heart.

  Paul and Viv. Viv and Paul. They were together now. God, how it hurt!

  He’d known, of course, when she had left for England, that he had lost her. He had known it would not be long before she found someone else and he had made himself think about it over and over hoping that the pain would be blunted by familiarity. And it had been a little. He had almost come to accept the inevitability of it. She would find someone else. But he had not expected that someone to be Paul.

  Nicky’s face darkened. A nameless unknown lover – yes, he could just about take that. But Paul! Christ, no! That he could not stand.

  Nicky screwed the letter into a ball and hurled it across the room. Then he clenched his fists, striking at the arms of his chair, his face contorted with agony.

  He’ll bring her here, I suppose, home to Jersey. I’ll have to watch them together, know he’s taking my girl to bed, hear her called ‘Mrs Carteret’ and know it’s not my name but his … I don’t believe she could do this to me … I don’t believe it!

  A rapping at the door cut through his misery. A customer? He didn’t want to see anyone just now. ‘I’m sorry, we’re closed!’ he called. His voice was thick and blurred.

  ‘Nicky?’ It was Sophia’s voice, anxious-sounding. ‘Are you there? What’s the matter?’

  Nicky swore. He couldn’t just send Sophia away. He wheeled his chair over to the door. The moment he turned the key, she opened it and put her head round.

  ‘Nicky? Why did you have the door locked?’

  His eyes, haunted, slid over her. ‘Where are the children?’

  ‘Catherine is looking after them. Why? What’s the matter, Nicky? You look dreadful, as if you’d seen a ghost!’

  ‘Maybe I have.’ He laughed shortly. ‘Have you heard from Paul lately?’

  ‘No. I expect he’s kept pretty busy.’

  ‘Not too busy to get off with Viv.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘My brother and my girl. Priceless, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh Nicky, I’m sure you’re wrong …’

  ‘I’m not wrong. Read it for yourself – that’s the letter – over there, screwed up. Why did he write to me here I’d like to know? Why here?’

  Sophia retrieved the letter, smoothed it out and read, her face setting grimly.

  ‘You see?’ he said when she had finished. ‘I didn’t imagine it, did I? Paul and Viv. What do you think of that?’

  ‘What can I say? I’m as shocked as you are.’

  ‘Are you? Well I can’t say I am. Not really. I’ve been half expecting something of the sort. But it doesn’t make it any damned easier, especially when it’s my own brother.’ He buried his head in his hands. ‘Oh Sophia, I really love her. I know I‘ve got nothing to offer her now but I did really love her. I’d do anything for her – anything she asked. Except watch her with Paul.’

  ‘Oh Nicky, I’m sure it won’t come to that. Paul would have more tact than to bring her here …’

  The outer door opened and Catherine came in holding Louis by the hand.

  ‘What on earth is the matter?’ she asked.

  ‘Nicky has had a letter from Paul. He and Viv are together. Nicky is very upset.’

  ‘Oh pooh!’ Catherine said with rude exuberance. ‘Who cares about, her? She’s not worth upsetting yourself over, Nicky. I should say Paul is welcome to her, and more fool he! After all he knows all about it. He knows what she did … what sort of a girl she is.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Catherine?’

  ‘Well Viv of course, and the abortion. I think it was a terrible thing to do under the circumstances. I mean, supposing you’d never come home? I know it would have been difficult for her but at least she’d have had something of you left.’ She broke off, staring in horror at Nicky’s stricken face. ‘You didn’t know.’

  ‘Catherine!’ Sophia groaned.

  ‘Know what?’ Nicky demanded tersely. ‘ What didn’t I know? I think you’d better explain yourself.’

  ‘Oh Nicky … I …’ Catherine faltered.

  ‘Go on. An abortion, I think you said.’

  ‘Well – yes … it was after you went away, right at the beginning of the war … at least, that’s what Paul said …’

  ‘Paul told you this?’ he demanded.

  ‘Well, yes … he said …’

  ‘You’re telling me Viv had had an abortion and he knew? He knew about my baby and I didn’t … it was my baby, I take it?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Catherine said miserably. ‘I honestly thought you knew, Nicky. Paul said she would have told you. I’d never have said anything if I’d thou
ght for a moment …’

  ‘But you never do think do you?’ Sophia interjected angrily. ‘How could you be so stupid, Catherine?’

  ‘A conspiracy of silence.’ Nicky’s voice was low and bitter. ‘I take it you knew too, Sophia?’

  ‘Well … yes. Paul mentioned something about it when Viv went away but we don’t know any details.’

  ‘I see. Wonderful, isn’t it? Everybody, it seems, knew except me – and it was my baby! What else don’t I know? And why did she tell Paul? Was there something going on between them then? Has he been making a fool of me all these years?’

  ‘Nicky, please – no one has made a fool of you!’ Sophia said, distressed. ‘Certainly not Paul.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he tell me what he knew? And how did he know about it anyway?’

  ‘Obviously she must have told him,’ Sophia said. ‘And I suppose he didn’t tell you because he didn’t think it was his place to tell you. One would have expected Viv to do that herself. You were living at her house after all. I can’t understand why she didn’t tell you if she’d told Paul.’

  ‘Clearly she felt closer to him than she did to me,’ Nicky said bitterly. ‘What a bloody fool I’ve been!’

  There was a strained silence, then Catherine blurted: ‘ I’ve got to go. I’m due at the dentist’s in ten minutes.’ She was flushed and flustered, close to tears.

  Sophia nodded. ‘ Yes, you go on Catherine. Is Robin …’

  ‘In his pram, outside. I’m really sorry, Nicky …’

  Nicky did not answer. Sophia followed Catherine to the door, checking on Robin, who was fast asleep. Louis was busily turning out a drawer in the outer office, playing with the paper clips and rubber bands he found there and she left him to it.

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Nicky. Catherine … oh, she’s such a blabbermouth! Will she never learn?’

  ‘Don’t blame her. She was only telling the truth. More than the rest of you have done.’ He looked up, his face cold and blank. ‘ I suggest you go too, Sophia. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of things you should be doing.’

  ‘But I can’t leave you like this …’

  ‘Why not? I’m quite capable of running this office. Good God, I have to be fit for something!’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Oh go on, Sophia, leave me alone! Can’t you see I just want to be left alone?’

  ‘Come on, Louis,’ Sophia said quietly, thinking that perhaps for the moment it was the best thing. But in the doorway she looked back at him, sitting there hunched in his chair, not looking at her, not looking at anything, and her heart contracted with pain and anger.

  Damn Catherine and her loose tongue! Damn the war that had done this to her beloved brother! And most of all damn Viv Moran! If she had ever loved him at all how could she possibly have hurt him like this?

  After they had gone Nicky locked the office door again. For a long while he sat staring into space and thinking about what his sisters had told him. Viv had been pregnant with his baby and she had got rid of it. The only child he would ever father. The only woman he would ever love. The pain was a roaring wind inside him, devouring him. He rode it for as long as he could bear it but there was a darkness closing in from the edges of his mind. Ever since Dunkirk he had lived in a far from satisfactory present with no real hope for a future, now the one thing left to him – his memories of the past – had been raped and looted. The darkness closed in still further and with it a strange stillness. Nicky wheeled himself over to the filing cabinet and took out the bottle of whisky he kept hidden there. His pain killing tablets were in the top drawer of his desk; he got out the bottle and tipped it out on to the blotter. A whole new prescription and more … the ones he had saved just in case a day like this ever came when he could not bear to go on any longer. Nicky wheeled himself over to the window and pulled down the blind. Then he poured a full tumblerful of whisky, put the first tablets into his mouth and swallowed them.

  Sophia and Bernard found him late that evening. Worried when he did not come home, they went down town to the office and found it apparently locked up for the night. But when they opened the door with a spare key and went inside they found Nicky there. His wheelchair was drawn up to his desk and he had slumped forward across it. When she saw the whisky bottle and glass Sophia almost sobbed with relief – he had been drinking to drown his sorrows.

  ‘Nicky! What a state to get in!’

  But Bernard had seen the empty tablet bottle; he grabbed Nicky’s wrist, feeling for a pulse, and yelling at Sophia to phone for an ambulance.

  ‘Why?’ She was trembling uncontrollably. ‘He’s only drunk, isn’t he? Bernard …’

  ‘No. I think he’s gone.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ She tried to take a step towards him and could not. She was frozen, repelled by the thought that he was dead, afraid of the change that even she could now see had come over him. She didn’t want to touch him, didn’t want to feel his flesh cool and stiff – not her brother, not Nicky!

  But when she had phoned for the ambulance she crept back into the room drawn to him now by love and pity that were stronger than the revulsion had been. She ran to her brother, dropping to her knees beside him and burying her face in his useless legs. And her tears were for all of them – and for the shadow that it seemed would never leave them.

  Chapter twenty-five

  Of all the Carteret family it was Catherine who was most deeply affected by Nicky’s death.

  Lola was scarcely able to grasp what had happened – she tended to shut out everything but her immediate concerns – and Sophia had become almost philosophical about the cruelty of fate. It was not that she did not care that Nicky was dead, she did, very much, and at first she felt that she could simply not bear yet more sorrow. But she no longer had the capacity for the total grief that had overwhelmed her when she had known Dieter was dead, she had been through too much and for the time being at least her sensibilities were blunted. Besides, she had Bernard to support her now, and two babies dependent on her. She could not afford to go to pieces.

  Paul was shocked by the news of his brother’s death and at first suffered the agonies of guilt that came from knowing it must have been his letter which had pushed Nicky over the edge. But soon his strong instinct for self-preservation took over. He had had nothing to do with Viv leaving Nicky, he told himself, their romance had been over long before he had met up with her again, so he could hardly be held to blame. And, although he was rather ashamed of it, there was also an element of relief tangled up with the other emotions. For one thing he had not been looking forward to facing Nicky with Viv at his side, for another Nicky’s death removed for ever the dread he had never been quite able to banish that Viv might choose to leave him and go back to her former love. He had never forgotten his hurt and humiliation that long-ago night when she had confessed after their love-making that she had been using him as a substitute for Nicky. The fear that something similar might still happen again had hung over him like the sword of Damocles so that although he grieved for the brother who had been his hero, at the same time a small part of him gloried in knowing that never again would he have to fear him as a rival.

  Catherine, on the other hand, was inconsolable. She had adored Nicky; to her he had been a hero, the big brother who had spoiled her and teased her. And whilst Paul managed to suppress his guilt, Catherine was overwhelmed by it, holding herself entirely responsible for what had happened.

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Catherine,’ Sophia had said kindly. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  But Catherine had shaken her head. ‘It’s no use you saying that, Sophia. It was my fault. If I hadn’t told him about the baby …’

  ‘That wouldn’t have been enough to make him take his own life.’

  ‘Not on its own, maybe, but it was the last straw. Oh yes, it was. And nothing will ever convince me otherwise.’

  ‘We all have to share the blame,’ Sophia said. ‘I shouldn’t have left him that afternoon
. And I should have realised the state of mind he was in and made sure he didn’t have the chance to store up his pain killers, but I didn’t. That in itself absolves you: he must have considered it before otherwise he would never have had that many tablets in his possession. He must have been repeating his prescription far more often than he needed to in order to build up a store like that – he had them tucked away as a sort of insurance against the day when he simply could not go on any longer.’

  ‘But it was me who drove him to that point,’ Catherine said. In spite of her terrible grief she was dry-eyed. In the beginning she had not allowed herself to cry because she had thought that once she began she would never be able to stop and now, though her whole body felt heavy with the weight of tears, they simply refused to come. Catherine went about in a daze of wretchedness which etched the whole of her world in darkness and destroyed all coherence of thought.

  On the day before the funeral the guilt and grief built up to such a pressure inside her that Catherine felt she was going to explode. She could hear Sophia on the telephone making yet more arrangements and unable to bear being in the house a moment longer she walked out without a word.

  Although it was now October the air still held an echo of the warmth of summer. Catherine walked steadily, her head bent against the stiff breeze from the sea, without any clear idea of where she was going, and it was only when she found herself on the esplanade that she realised; she had wanted to go back to La Maison Blanche where they had been so happy, all of them, in the old days.

  The hotel was no longer at full stretch now it was the end of the season. The annexe, which had been their home, had been shut up, and those guests requiring a late holiday were being catered for in the main building. At this time of day the lobby was quiet, with only Brenda, the clerk/receptionist, sitting behind the desk and surreptitiously reading a paper novelette. She looked up as Catherine came in, embarrassed to be caught reading and also uncertain what to say to someone so recently bereaved.

  ‘Oh, Miss Carteret, I’m sorry, I …’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Catherine said. ‘ I don’t want anything. I just …’