Swimming Pool Sunday

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Swimming Pool Sunday Page 19

by Madeleine Wickham


  ‘Half a million pounds,’ repeated Amelia. ‘We’ll be half-millionaires.’

  Anna, crouched down in front of the guinea-pig pen on the other side of the garden, called, ‘Come on, Amelia. Come and see Nutmeg.’

  But Amelia ignored her and looked at Mrs Russet. Mrs Russet was being very kind to her, Amelia thought. She’d given her a lovely lunch, full of treats, and now it was teatime already, and more treats. And all Amelia had to do was keep talking about the accident. Mrs Russet seemed very interested in it.

  Now she looked at Amelia with huge brown eyes, and said, ‘That seems an awful lot of money for a little girl like you to be talking about.’

  ‘I know,’ said Amelia simply.

  ‘Did Mummy tell you about it?’ Amelia flushed slightly.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘I just sort of heard it. Mummy and Cassian were talking about it one time.’ She bit into her biscuit again. It was delicious, all chocolatey and filled with sweetened cream. The sort of biscuit they never had at home.

  ‘The accident was all Mr and Mrs Delaney’s fault,’ Amelia added, with her mouth full. ‘Cassian told me.’ She licked her chocolatey fingers and looked at Mrs Russet. ‘I’m not allowed to speak to Mrs Delaney any more,’ she continued indistinctly, ‘even though she gave me a Barbie doll. I like Mrs Delaney,’ she added, ‘but Cassian says she’s neg-lent.’ She said the word cautiously and looked up for approval, but Mrs Russet was gazing at her silently, waiting for her to continue. Amelia gave an inward sigh. She was running out of things to say.

  ‘I hate the boring old court case,’ she said eventually. ‘That’s all they talk about: Katie and the court case.’ She eyed Mrs Russet surreptitiously and added pitifully, ‘No-one cares abut me any more.’

  She was hoping that Mrs Russet would offer her another biscuit, but instead Mrs Russet grabbed her hand.

  ‘I’ve never heard anything so terrible,’ she said. ‘That you should feel so abandoned!’ She looked at Amelia and blinked a few times. ‘Does Mummy know you feel like this?’

  ‘Well,’ began Amelia, ‘not …’

  ‘Doesn’t have time to listen, I expect,’ said Mrs Russet, nodding vigorously. ‘Or doesn’t want to listen. Too busy with her million-pound court case to bother about her children. It’s immoral, that’s what it is. She wasn’t even at Forest Lodge today. Who knows what she’s been doing …’ She broke off and leaned closer to Amelia.

  ‘That Cassian,’ she said. ‘Does he … visit the house very much?’ Amelia took another biscuit without asking and tried to think. What counted as very much?

  ‘Well … quite a lot,’ she said at last. Mrs Russet nodded vigorously again. The collection of bead necklaces strung about her neck jangled, and a red glow began to spread over her face.

  ‘And what about poor Daddy?’ she said. Amelia stared back at Mrs Russet. How did Mrs Russet know so much about them?

  ‘We see him every weekend,’ she said, her voice starting to tremble.

  ‘And is he in favour of this court case?’ said Mrs Russet in a suddenly fierce voice. ‘Or does he think, as I do, that God moves in mysterious ways?’ She looked at Amelia sternly. ‘Everything happens for a reason,’ she said, ‘and every sinner receives his punishment.’ She brought her face suddenly close to Amelia’s. ‘Would your sister’s accident have happened if your mother hadn’t been so distracted, thinking about her lover? Would it have happened if she’d been a decent responsible mother?’ She spat the words out and Amelia shrank back in her seat. She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Look,’ called Anna, from the other side of the garden. ‘Amelia’s mummy’s car is here.’

  Amelia had never seen her mother so angry. She barely waited until they’d got into the car before she screamed, in a voice which made Amelia give a terrified jump, ‘What did you say to that woman?’

  Amelia stared back at her mother with a white face.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said in a shaking voice. ‘Nothing really. Just things she asked me.’

  ‘And what did she ask you?’ said Louise bitterly. ‘I know,’ she added, before Amelia could reply. ‘Is your mother a good Christian or an irresponsible harlot who brought this accident on herself?’

  Amelia peered at Louise in terror.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she muttered.

  ‘She said she’s going to testify against us!’ shouted Louise. ‘She’s going to offer herself as a character witness, and give evidence in court that I don’t look after my children properly!’ Louise turned briefly towards Amelia.

  ‘How do you think that makes me feel?’

  Amelia gazed back in silence. She didn’t really understand what had happened. One minute Mrs Russet had been all friendly, then she’d suddenly changed and started saying horrible things. And she’d had a huge row with Mummy, and now Mummy was furious, and it all seemed to be Amelia’s fault. Suddenly Amelia gave a little sob. Louise turned to look at her, and the angry lines in her forehead softened.

  ‘Oh, Amelia, darling,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.’ She gave a small strange laugh, and changed gear roughly. ‘It’s my fault, just like she said. If I’d remembered to pick you up, this would never have happened.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ said Amelia fiercely. ‘I hate Mrs Russet,’ she added. ‘I wish she’d just go away.’ Louise sighed.

  ‘So do I,’ she said, ‘but somehow I think that’s a bit unlikely.’

  When they got home, Frances Mold was waiting on the doorstep. She looked worried and stepped forward as soon as the car stopped. Louise looked at her with a curious, not particularly friendly expression. She knew Frances was a close friend of Meredith Delaney. No doubt she was firmly in the Delaneys’ camp.

  ‘I’ve just had Gillian Russet on the phone,’ said Frances, as Louise got out of the car. ‘I’m afraid she was … a little worked up.’ Her eyes moved briefly to Amelia and back to Louise.

  ‘Amelia,’ said Louise, handing her the door key, ‘let yourself in, and then go and play in the garden.’ As Amelia clattered off, Louise turned towards Frances with frank bitterness in her face.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said, ‘you think she’s right. You think I brought Katie’s accident on myself as a punishment.’ Frances’s face didn’t flicker.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said steadily. ‘I’m afraid Gillian tends to get things out of proportion,’ she added. ‘Alan’s had to speak to her before about this sort of thing.’

  ‘Really?’ said Louise sharply. ‘And is he going to speak to her this time?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Frances simply. She sighed. ‘Actually, I think he’ll get quite angry with her.’ She ran a weary hand over her face. ‘Gillian has a lot to learn about compassion, but she’s actually very well-meaning in many respects.’ Frances looked at Louise earnestly. ‘I hope you can manage to forgive her.’

  Louise leaned back against the car. She felt suddenly very weak.

  ‘That woman has no idea,’ she said unsteadily, ‘no idea what this has been like for us.’

  ‘I know she hasn’t,’ agreed Frances. ‘None of us has.’ She came over and leaned back next to Louise.

  ‘I feel I haven’t been as supportive as I should.’ She looked at Louise. ‘I was wondering, when Katie comes home, whether I could help you with her. Perhaps I could come and read with her? Would that be helpful?’

  Louise looked at Frances’s earnest ugly face and felt almost tearful.

  ‘I’m sure that would be a great help,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’ Then, before she could stop it, her old defensive anger flooded to the front of her mind, and she added in a sharp voice, ‘What will Meredith think? I thought you were a great friend of hers?’

  ‘I am,’ agreed Frances, ‘but Meredith will, I’m sure, simply be glad that I can help.’ She looked steadily at Louise. ‘We all want to help, really. Unfortunately the Delaneys have been legally advised …’

  ‘To stay away from us?’

  Frances nodded sl
ightly.

  ‘I suppose you think’, said Louise, her voice harsh and defensive, ‘that we’re evil people, taking Hugh and Ursula to court.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Frances mildly. ‘I have every faith in British justice. If you do have a case, then I’m sure the system will work.’

  Louise stared at Frances, unaccountably dissatisfied by this answer. Then she shrugged. ‘Well, Katie’s coming home in a week or so,’ she said.

  ‘That’s marvellous!’ said Frances. ‘I’ll look out some easy reading books.’ She looked anxiously at Louise. ‘She is reading, isn’t she?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Louise, suddenly breaking into a smile. ‘She’s done so well! The programme at Forest Lodge is just wonderful. You’d almost never know …’

  She broke off suddenly, as though struck by something, and frowned.

  ‘Well, I’ll be in touch,’ said Frances. She looked seriously at Louise. ‘And I’m sorry about Gillian Russet. I hope very much that Alan will be able to persuade her that testifying against you is not, as she seems to think, her duty. But I’m afraid she’s not constrained to do what he advises; she’s her own person.’ She spread her hands helplessly.

  ‘Well, thanks for trying, anyway,’ said Louise. ‘Thank you …’ She swallowed. ‘Thank you for everything.’

  Meredith was not as glad as Frances had predicted. She glared at Frances as she handed her a glass of sherry, and said, reproachfully, ‘You’re supposed to be on our side.’

  ‘Meredith,’ remonstrated Frances. ‘I’ll pretend you didn’t really say that.’

  ‘Well, for Pete’s sake, Frances,’ said Meredith, ‘this is taking good behaviour a bit far, isn’t it? You’ll be testifying against us in court, next.’

  ‘Meredith!’ said Frances, suddenly angry, ‘I can’t believe you’re so obsessed by this case that you can’t feel compassion for an injured child.’

  Meredith stared at Frances, chastened.

  ‘I know,’ she muttered eventually, ‘I’m sorry. I think it’s really good of you to help out like that.’ She took a sip of vodka. ‘And I even think you’re right about this nut-case woman,’ she added. ‘If she offers to besmirch Louise’s character in court for us, we’ll say, no thanks.’

  ‘I think that would be wise,’ said Frances.

  ‘Even though’, Meredith’s eyes began to gleam, ‘it would be great to have her up there on the stand. Wouldn’t it? I mean, she’s practically saying Louise threw Katie off the diving-board herself!’

  ‘She’s completely overreacted to the situation,’ said Frances. ‘I’m sure she’ll calm down eventually.’

  ‘That’s what I keep saying,’ put in Ursula, surprisingly, from her corner chair. ‘I’m sure everyone will calm down eventually and this silly case will all blow over.’

  Frances glanced at Meredith, who raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘I hope you’re right, Ursula,’ said Frances pleasantly, ‘but, you know, I’d say there’s a fair chance it might not blow over. You really should be prepared for that.’

  Ursula, who was bent once more over her tapestry, looked up. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She had to admit, in her own mind, that her conciliatory letter to Louise had not been as effective as she had hoped. Louise had returned the bundle of banknotes almost immediately, accompanied by a short note which thanked Ursula politely for her kind wishes and added that she couldn’t possibly accept so much money.

  But Ursula had not given up. The bundle of money still sat, untouched, in her dressing-table, together with another, unfinished letter. She was absolutely sure that if only she could express herself properly; if only she could find exactly the right words, then all this unpleasantness could be overcome …

  Ursula’s thoughts were interrupted by Meredith.

  ‘You know,’ she was saying to Frances, ‘what gets me is walking through the village and seeing everyone’s faces, and knowing they’ve been talking about it.’ She gestured dramatically with her arm. ‘Seeing their gleaming eyes, and their hands rubbing together, waiting for our downfall. They just can’t wait.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Frances. She grinned at Meredith. ‘You’re just getting paranoid.’

  ‘It’s true,’ insisted Meredith. ‘All the sympathy’s on Katie’s side. They think we must be child murderers or something. And what they really want is for the courts to make a huge award to the Kembers. A kind of lottery award. A couple of million pounds would do the trick. So they can all gasp to each other, and wonder what they would do if they won two million. Then, of course, when they realize it’s us who’s got to pay it, a few will start feeling sorry for us, but it’ll be too late by then. Far, far too late.’ She tossed her hair melodramatically.

  ‘Meredith!’ Frances was laughing. ‘I’m sure no-one thinks like that.’

  ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Meredith darkly. ‘You don’t know how low people sink when the vicar’s wife isn’t around to keep them in line.’

  She grinned wickedly at Frances, who blushed very slightly and said, ‘Nonsense!’

  Ursula, whose attention had drifted away during Meredith’s little speech, put down her tapestry and stood up.

  ‘I’m going to pick some raspberries for supper,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll come out in a minute,’ said Meredith. ‘Have another drink, Frances.’

  Frances hesitated, then she held out her glass.

  ‘I think I need it,’ she said cheerfully. ‘After listening to nonsensical tirades from you and Gillian Russet in one evening …’ She looked at Meredith and gave a little giggle.

  ‘Actually,’ she said, as Ursula closed the door, ‘I was thinking, as I listened to Gillian shouting down the phone, that if any court heard such a dreadful diatribe against Louise, they would probably immediately find in Louise’s favour. Just out of sympathy.’

  Meredith grinned.

  ‘I guess no witness is better than a lousy witness.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Mind you, what about poor old Ursula? If she has to testify as a witness, we’re done for. Witless, more like.’ She began to shake with giggles. ‘She’ll say something like … she always thought the swimming-pool was dangerous for children.’

  ‘Don’t!’ said Frances, trying not to laugh. Suddenly Meredith stopped giggling.

  ‘Oh Jeez. Why am I laughing about it?’ She leaned back and closed her eyes. ‘The worst thing is how long everything is taking. I mean, they haven’t even filed their claim against us yet. This whole case could take years, and meanwhile we can’t make any plans. Oh, no, better not do that; we might go bankrupt next year. What kind of life is that?’ She took a swig of vodka, emptying her glass, and roughly put it down on a side-table, with a little crash.

  Frances took a sip of sherry and looked seriously at Meredith.

  ‘Why is it taking so long?’

  Meredith shrugged. ‘Alexis says there’s been some delay on the other side. Apparently these things always take ages; lawyers are never in a hurry.’ She ran a hand through her hair and winced as it was caught up in a tangle. ‘It’s fine for them,’ she said in a bitter voice. ‘They’re not even paying their own fucking legal fees. Nothing to lose.’

  ‘And you …’

  ‘Alexis is being very generous,’ said Meredith in a carefully flat voice, ‘but he has to eat. He can’t do it all for nothing.’ She picked up her glass and got up to pour another drink, ignoring Frances’s quizzical look.

  When she sat down again, she seemed to be pondering whether to say something. Frances waited. Eventually Meredith said, in a low casual voice, ‘What is it with Alexis, Frances? I really like him, you know.’ She swallowed. ‘I always thought he and I might … you know, get together.’ She fingered the soft fabric of the sofa. ‘And he’s round here often enough – I’m sure he wants to make a move on me, but nothing ever happens.’

  Meredith paused. She could feel Frances drawing breath, and hurriedly carried on, ‘So I was wondering,’ she said
in a rush, ‘do you think it would be a good idea to make a pass? Or do you think that would frighten him off?’

  Meredith looked up. The expression on Frances’s face scared her.

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ said Frances. She exhaled sharply. ‘I can’t believe you don’t know.’

  ‘Know? Know what?’ Meredith’s heart began to thud. ‘What should I know?’

  ‘Oh, Meredith,’ said Frances sadly. She took hold of Meredith’s hand. ‘Alexis is having an affair.’ She paused and squeezed Meredith’s cold hand tighter. ‘He’s having an affair … with little Daisy Phillips.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alexis lay entwined with Daisy on the floor of her sitting-room, while around them pounded and swirled a Sibelius symphony. He had just brought Daisy to a shuddering orgasm, and was now watching her face with almost unbearable tenderness, as her contorted features softened, her eyes slowly opened, and she gave him a shy embarrassed smile.

  He stared at her silently, running his eyes over her flushed face; breathing in her scent; feeling the haunting, pulsating, powerful music coursing through the air and into his body. He felt as though each sense and every emotion was being tested to breaking-point. Daisy gave a little sigh and snuggled closer, so that her body fitted neatly into his. She smiled up at Alexis and he looked back; unable to express himself; unable to do anything except put out a trembling finger and gently push back a strand of her hair.

  ‘I always …’ began Daisy in a soft voice against his chest. She stopped. Alexis ran an encouraging hand down her back, around her waist, and began to tickle her tummy. She giggled.

  ‘What do you always?’ he said tenderly.

  ‘I always think …’ Daisy blushed. ‘I think … will it really happen again? You know … will I …’ She broke off and blushed even harder. ‘Each time, it’s so lovely, I can’t believe it’ll ever happen again.’

  Alexis stopped tickling Daisy’s tummy and kissed her neck. Daisy gave a little gasp.

  ‘I don’t mean’, she added hurriedly, ‘that I don’t think you … I mean, I know you’re really …’ She broke off and looked at him with worried eyes, as though afraid she might have given offence. Alexis threw back his head and laughed.

 

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