by Anne Morice
‘He may have, for all I know. This place he goes to is one of those co-educational affairs, so it is quite likely.’
‘You refer to Reading University?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Propinquity is not everything, Toby.’
‘It will have to be, in Phil’s case, for it strikes me as highly unlikely that Ellen will alter her arrangements just to accommodate him. In fact, having gone so far, I should think it might be even more bother to cancel them. Besides . . .’
‘What?’
‘Much as I deplore these Roxburghs, I should feel even more put upon if she were to marry Phil Roper.’
‘Oh, he’s not a bad boy. Not very polished, I admit, but at least one knows where one is with him.’
‘Yes, one does,’ Toby agreed. ‘Only too well. Living as close as they do, he and his unattractive mother would be round this house like flies. At least the Roxburghs won’t be camped on our doorstep.’
‘Leaving aside your own prejudices for a moment, you don’t think Ellen might have been happier with Phil?’
‘Certainly not. He’s become a very humourless, moody sort of creature and taken up animal husbandry now, so they tell me. That wouldn’t be very thrilling for her.’
‘I thought he was reading economics?’
‘Perhaps he was, but it all proved too much for him, I suppose. He switched over in his second year. Always a bad sign.’
‘Of what?’
‘Shilly-shally. It would drive Ellen mad if he were to change his mind every two seconds. I suppose we can rely on Jeremy to be fairly consistent in that way?’
‘I don’t think he’s likely to switch to animal husbandry, if that’s what’s bothering you, but unsteadiness can take other forms as well, you know. You’ve seen more of him than I have, but it seems to me that most of the time he’s putting on some kind of act. The trouble is that I haven’t yet discovered which is the real Jeremy and which is the act; or, come to that, which one Ellen has fallen for. Is she in love with the moody blues character or the suave embryo tycoon, is the question I ask myself?’
‘It rather plagues me too, but at least it sounds as though she won’t be bored,’ Toby said, in the tone of one who rated this among life’s major perils.
‘She may have other troubles to contend with, though.’
‘Most people do, but I assume from these heavy-handed hints that you have something special in mind?’
‘What about a discarded mistress, for a start?’
‘If she’s been discarded, I foresee no bother at all.’
‘Then you’re an optimist because she’s been discarded against her will and is passionately jealous and neurotic.’
‘You fascinate me, Tessa! Do go on!’
I was quite willing to, for I had been pondering on the strange encounter with the blonde woman in the dining club, and how it had seemed to coincide with or possibly set off Jeremy’s boorish mood and had arrived at the solution that she could only have been Imogen and that shoving the chair forward had been a deliberate act of malice. I was about to describe the incident to Toby and get his views, but was forestalled by the arrival of Mrs Parkes, the housekeeper, wearing a snow white overall and immaculate bouffant hair style. In her hand was a slip of paper with ‘Don’t Forget’ printed across the top in red capitals.
‘Sorry to interrupt your lazy afternoon,’ she announced, not sounding it. ‘This just came through on the phone. Hope I’ve got it down right. Some people must have money to burn.’
Toby glanced down at the last line before reading the message, which he did very slowly and then handed it to me, having grown old and grey in the process. It read as follows:
‘Why no letter query have just seen press announcement stop love and congratulations to all stop Osgood unfortunately tied up this end but sends greetings stop arriving BA two three nine ex Ottawa fifteen hours your time Friday stop love Irene.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘It’s a real shocker!’ Alison Roper said, snipping ferociously at the dead heads in her herbaceous border. ‘A right scandal, if you want my opinion.’
She was a large, mud-coloured, muscular sort of woman, who prided herself on her outspokenness and who had an irritating habit of using slang expressions which she imagined to be up to the minute for her son’s generation, although generally lagging several years behind and misapplying them when she did catch up. As it happened, her opinion was the last thing I wanted, for it was invariably in direct conflict with my own, but the delicacy of my mission made it essential not to cross swords with her in the opening round, so I said nothing and she went on:
‘I mean, just think of it, Tessa! She’s only a kid still, isn’t she?’
‘Nineteen; and lots of girls get married at that age and make a go of it.’
‘I couldn’t care less about other girls. My argument is this,’ she said, pointing the secateurs at my nose in a slightly threatening manner, ‘it’s all very fine to marry at nineteen if you’ve known the chap for years and have an idea what you’re letting yourself in for, but Ellen doesn’t. How could she? Answer me that!’
Bitterness, self-pity and the grinding struggle to bring up three children single-handed had no doubt helped to make Alison so bossy and aggressive, but sadly enough any direct contact with her merely increased my sympathy with Toby’s views. So it was all the more regrettable that he and Ellen, having already wrung one big favour from her, should now have delegated me to beg an even greater one.
‘I’m not sure if I can,’ I admitted, ‘but before I forget what I came for, Toby wants to know if you and Phil will come across for a drink with us on Friday evening. The Roxburghs are bringing Ellen down and since you’re being so very kind as to put their son up for the night he thought it would be a nice idea for you all to meet.’
This was a slight paraphrase of my terms of reference, but I was all for seeing what a little conciliation could do to smooth the troubled waters. Not much, as it turned out.
‘Oh, he can be very soft soap when he chooses,’ Alison said, literally tossing her head, so that she nipped off a perfectly good lupin by mistake. ‘That’s your Toby all over. Always thinks he can get round people by laying on a bit of the old charm, when it suits him, but it doesn’t fool me. He’s selfish to the core underneath. Yes, I know you’re his cousin and you always stick up for him, but it’s time someone had the guts to say these things. Imagine pushing that poor kid into marriage with the first rich young man who comes along, just to suit his own convenience!’
This was so far wide of the mark that I was provoked against my better judgement into argument.
‘No, you’re all wrong, Alison. This is entirely Ellen’s decision and no one has pushed her into anything. The truth is that Toby’s fairly distraught about it. The last thing on earth he wants is to lose her, specially to someone he hardly knows and doesn’t much care for, but it’s precisely for that reason that he won’t interfere. He’s so terrified of being influenced by his own prejudices that he’s tipping over backwards to stay neutral.’
‘That’s your story, my dear, and you stick to it if it gives you any joy, but there are those of us who know better.’
‘Then you do him an injustice, I promise you, Alison.’ She gave me a patronising smile. ‘Quite the little innocent, aren’t we? And there’s me thinking all you stage folk are so worldly wise! Still, I suppose it’s life which teaches one the really valuable lessons and I’ve seen too much of it to be taken in by your cousin, believe you me!’
‘All the same, I hope it won’t stop your coming over to have a drink under his roof on Friday evening?’ I said, in as humble a voice as I could manage, for I had still not broached the main object of my visit and was bent on maintaining diplomatic relations until this had been achieved.
‘Oh yes, since his lordship has been so gracious as to invite us. Can’t speak for Phil, of course, but he usually gets home earlyish on a Friday. That’s the advantage of being so n
ear. He could have got into Oxford or Cambridge, you know, if he’d wanted to, but he plumped for Reading, so that he could get over at weekends and be company for his old Mum.’
‘That’s nice! Has he got a car now?’
‘If you can call it that. Old jalopy, really, but it goes at a fairish lick. I suppose young Mr Roxburgh owns a Bentley or a Rolls, doesn’t he?’
‘No, some fairly ordinary red sports thing, as far as I remember. Quite modest.’
‘Not compared to Phil’s job, you can bet on that. He bought the old Mini for thirty quid and patched it up himself to get through the M.o.T. Brakes, steering, you name it! It’s been a blessing too, now that my old bus has had to be thrown on the scrap heap.’
‘Oh no, Alison, you can’t mean it? How on earth do you manage up here without a car?’
‘Oh, we get by. Phil does a big weekend shopping for me at Stadhampton and I’m used to walking, you know. Still got the use of my legs, whatever else. If I do need a car for special occasions I hire one from Fairman’s. He’s pretty reliable, on the whole, and what with the tax and insurance and all, it works out cheaper than owning one. What time do you want us on Friday?’
‘Six-thirtyish, if that suits you. Oh, by the way, Alison, slight change of plan,’ I added, as though struck by an afterthought. ‘We’ve had a cable from Ellen’s mother to say she’s coming over for the wedding. Could you possibly do a swap and have her to stay instead of the best man?’
‘S’pose so,’ Alison replied, pushing a grimy hand through her cropped grey hair. ‘It’ll mean giving her the spare room and doubling Master Jeremy up with Phil. Still, it won’t do him any harm to see how the other half lives. What’s the catch, though? She’d be a lot more comfortable at Toby’s than in our humble abode.’
I debated whether to spin some yarn about Toby’s having doubts as to the propriety of his ex-wife staying in the house, but decided this was too far fetched even for Alison to swallow and gambled on the truth instead.
‘The fact is, Toby can’t stand the sight of her. She ran off with her Canadian husband when Ellen was a baby and he’s never forgiven her. I tried to get her a room at the Swan, but they’re full up from attic to cellar and quite honestly I think Ellen’s last evening at home would be a misery, with both her parents there.’
It paid off, for the gleam in Alison’s eye signified that no untruth could have gone down half so well, although it was probably the first part of my confession which had done the trick. Anyone whom Toby couldn’t stand the sight of automatically moved up a few notches in Alison’s estimation, and she may have felt too that a woman who had abandoned her home and husband for another man had done her share to even the score. Whatever the motive, she acceded with more than her customary grace and I returned to the summerhouse to report on the full success of my mission.
CHAPTER SIX
1
The grey Rolls-Royce swayed very slowly along the stony track across the common, exuding disapproval from every gleaming panel, and came to rest at Toby’s gate. Only Ellen and the chauffeur got out, the latter carrying two large white cardboard boxes, which he laid reverently on the hall table, before pulling the forelock and returning to his place behind the wheel.
‘They’re going on to lunch with some people near Banbury,’ Ellen explained. ‘I was invited, but I thought it would be more fun to spend the afternoon with you and Pa.’
‘More fun for us too, but they’ll be back this evening?’
‘Oh yes, no getting out of that macabre little festivity. Six-thirty on the dot, but they won’t stay long.’
‘Is this all your luggage?’ I asked, picking up the second box and following her upstairs.
‘Yes, I keep a mass of stuff down here, you see, and my suitcases for tomorrow are already in Jeremy’s car. He’s still in London, but he’ll try and get away by three. I told him to come straight here because he’s picking up some presents which people have been sending to the flat. I haven’t even had time to open them all yet and I dread to think what Caspar could do if he got his sticky hands on them. Mix up all the cards, for a start. All I’ve brought with me are my dress and my going away clothes.’
‘What about your hair? You’ll be mistaken for one of the younger bridesmaids if you wear it like that. Is someone coming to do it?’
‘No, I’ll wash it tonight and put it up in the morning. I’ve been practising in secret, so I know just how to do it and it puts years on me, just you wait and see! I’m a bit bothered about my dress though. It still looks lopsided to me. I thought we might have a trying-on session this afternoon, if you’ve got time?’
‘Well . . .’
‘Not if it’s a bore,’ she said, removing the white dress from its froth of tissue paper and holding it up for my inspection.
‘It’s not that, but the problem is that Toby has given me the job of collecting your mother from the airport.’
‘What a nerve! Why doesn’t he order a taxi?’
‘I think he feels he can rely on me to drive all the way from Heathrow at two miles an hour, possibly making a detour round Reading, and thus postpone the dreaded moment.’
‘Is she coming here, then? I thought you’d loaded her on to poor old Alison?’
‘I have, but they’ve never even met and I thought it would be only civil to bring her here first, to get her bearings. We’ll fill her up with soft words and champagne cocktails and Alison can remove her at half-past seven.’
‘God, what a nightmare, isn’t it?’ Ellen asked. ‘If only people knew what weddings really involved I am sure the custom would have died out centuries ago.’
I glanced at her curiously but she had spoken in a placid, abstracted kind of way, while holding the dress up against herself and appraising the reflection in the long glass, and hardly appeared to be listening to her own words, much less taking them seriously; so I said,
‘I’ll go and telephone Owen the taxi and see if he can deputise for me at the airport.’
To which she replied in the same absent-minded strain,
‘Brilliant idea, you’re a genius! By the way, is Phil coming over this evening?’
‘Apparently, he is.’
‘Oh, good!’
‘You’re pleased?’
‘Why ever not? We’ve always got on fine, Phil and me. He’s practically my best friend, next to you and Jez, and I’d hate him to feel left out. Besides, I want him to meet Jeremy’s father. I think he could be useful and I’m hoping to prevail on him to give Phil a job when he’s got his degree. He deserves a break, poor old Phil, and Alison too; and I mean to see they get one.’
It occurred to me as I went downstairs to the hall to telephone that Ellen showed no sign of running out of eccentric reasons for marrying into the Roxburgh clan, but at least she had not so far claimed to be doing so for the sake of Desmond’s career, which was perhaps something to be thankful for.
2
Presumably Toby had not been hoping for a major disaster, which must have affected innocent people as well, but he had certainly been keeping his fingers crossed all day that Irene would have changed her mind, missed her plane, or, at the very least, been diverted to somewhere inaccessible like Prestwick, and by half-past five it began to look as though one of these prayers had been answered.
‘It’s nothing for transatlantic flights to be an hour late, Toby,’ and ‘It can take ages and ages to get through customs,’ Ellen and I reminded him with the utmost regularity, occasionally swapping lines to vary the monotony of our efforts to dampen premature hopes, but his confidence was seen to soar with each repetition of the counterblast:
‘Owen would have telephoned by now if there had been something of that nature to account for it.’
‘Well, why hasn’t he done so in any case?’ Ellen demanded when it came out for the third time.
‘Obviously, because he is afraid to desert his post. As I see it, what has happened is this: he arrives at the terminal, learns that the plane has landed on tim
e and stations himself near the customs exit, holding up the card with her name on it until his poor old arms are practically dropping off, but still no one approaches. What should he do? No doubt, the suspicion grows, as it does with us, that she was never on the plane at all, but how can he be sure? What if she has passed out in the ladies’ cloakroom, or has mislaid her jewel case and is raising hell up and down the building? What should we say to him if, having deserted his post to telephone us, she then came bouncing out and found no one to meet her? Those must be the thoughts which have been chasing through his mind.’
‘More likely sitting on the M4 listening to Irene’s flow of obscenities because he’s had a puncture or run out of petrol.’
‘Most improbable,’ Toby said, utterly dismissing an explanation which offered so short a reprieve. ‘Owen always carries a spare tyre and very likely a spare gallon as well. Besides, the M4 is festooned with telephones every yard of the way.’
However, when at last Owen did ring up, which was not until some further time had gone by and optimism had soared to euphoric heights, his explanation for the delay was far more dramatic than any which had occurred to us, but before this happened we had been joined by Jeremy, who, in this season of shocks and setbacks, had provided his full quota.
He too had arrived late, which was most unlike him, and poor Ellen nearly got her head snapped off when she asked if it had been a tiresome journey.
‘That, my darling, is the understatement of the century. How long since you tried getting out of London on a Friday afternoon in full summer? The entire bloody population apparently had the same idea and, so far as I could tell, they were all heading for Stadhampton, though one finds it difficult to understand why.’
‘What a shame you couldn’t have made an earlier start,’ she replied, sounding quite unmoved.
‘Wasn’t it? Unfortunately, as you may recall, I was obliged to stop off at your flat and collect some parcels.’
‘Well, that shouldn’t have taken you long.’