Swimming Pool Sunday

by Sophie Kinsella

  Cassian laughed and Desmond gave a wry grin. Louise caught Barnaby’s eye. He had the same astounded look on his face that she could feel on hers.

  ‘Don’t you think …’ she began, but she was interrupted by the door opening. It was Katie, clad in pyjamas and wearing a sleepy expression.

  ‘Hello, Katie!’ said Louise cheerfully. ‘We’ve just been talking about you. Now, let’s go back to bed.’ Katie looked silently around the room, at the men in suits and the pieces of paper and glasses of wine. Then, suddenly she gave a huge grin.

  ‘I’ll play too!’ she said in a loud clumsy voice.

  ‘Not now,’ said Louise and got up. Katie darted past her and ran into the centre of the room.

  ‘Come on, Katkin,’ said Barnaby. ‘I’ll read you a story.’

  ‘No!’ shouted Katie. She suddenly smiled again and, without pausing, began to take off her pyjama top.

  ‘Katie!’ exclaimed Louise. She glanced around apologetically. ‘Sorry about this,’ she said. ‘It’s one of the side-effects of the injury. They call it a loss of inhibition. We call it showing off.’ Katie threw the pyjama top on the floor, and before she could start on her pyjama bottoms, both Louise and Barnaby hastily rushed forward. Barnaby got to her first.

  ‘Now then!’ he said, scooping Katie into his arms. ‘Let’s count the steps to the door!’ He took a step. ‘One!’

  ‘One!’ repeated Katie obediently. Clearly this was an old game. Louise picked up the pyjama top and handed it to Barnaby.

  ‘I think you might want this,’ she said, grinning ruefully at him.

  ‘Thanks!’ said Barnaby, grinning back. ‘Two!’ he added, and took another step.

  ‘Two!’ echoed Katie.

  ‘Good girl!’ said Louise. She looked at Barnaby. ‘Do you want me to take over?’

  ‘No, it’s OK,’ said Barnaby. ‘I won’t be too long. Three!’

  ‘Three!’

  ‘Well done!’ As Barnaby shut the sitting-room door behind him, the sound of Katie’s guffaw could be heard from the hall. Cassian sighed and leaned back in his chair.

  ‘Well, she seems a lovely child,’ said Desmond politely.

  ‘She’s wonderful,’ said Louise, with shining eyes. ‘She’s still got a real sense of humour and she never gives up, however hard things seem.’

  ‘She seems perfectly normal to me,’ said Karl flatly. ‘Is she really brain damaged?’

  ‘Well,’ said Louise steadily, ‘part of her brain was damaged in the accident, yes; so some of her brain functions were impaired. But the point of rehab is that it tries to help other parts of the brain take over those functions. It’s amazing, really, just how adaptable the human brain can be.’ She flushed with pleasure. ‘And Katie’s responded very well to treatment so far. I mean, there’s still a long road ahead, but it’s been an absolute miracle …’

  ‘She’s still very disturbed, though,’ said Cassian hastily. ‘I mean, you saw her. She’s lost all sense of how to behave; she laughs at things which aren’t funny; she takes her clothes off at the wrong time … I mean, as far as her personality goes, the accident was a catastrophe.’

  ‘Personality disorders,’ said Karl interestedly. ‘I love ’em. We had a great case, couple of years ago, where a woman was hit on the head and became a complete nympho. But the husband didn’t want a nympho, he wanted his old frigid wife back. It was classic!’ He looked at Desmond. ‘You must remember that one. Brooks v Murkoff.’ He began to tap again.

  ‘Well, I think we can go a long way with personality disorder here,’ said Cassian confidently. ‘Since her accident, Katie’s noisy, uncontrollable, impossible to live with … basically a complete walking disaster.’

  ‘No she’s not!’ Louise’s voice rose indignantly. ‘She’s fine! She’s lovely!’ Cassian sighed impatiently.

  ‘Louise, she’s not fine and she’s not lovely,’ he snapped. ‘She’s brain damaged! I mean, why the hell do you think we’re suing?’ Louise looked from one lawyer to another.

  ‘Because of Katie’s accident,’ she said, in a voice which trembled slightly. ‘Because of all the pain and suffering she went through. Because …’

  ‘Pain and suffering!’ Cassian’s voice was dismissive. ‘That’s peanuts! We need long-term effects; we need psychiatric problems; we need loss of amenities of life; and we need you to testify.’

  ‘What, and say my daughter’s a complete walking disaster?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Well, I won’t! She isn’t!’ Louise’s voice rose in distress through the house. There was a pause, then the sound of Barnaby running down the stairs. Desmond and Karl exchanged glances. Then the sitting-room door burst open and Barnaby appeared.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded. Louise drew an indignant breath to speak, but before she could answer, from outside came the sudden loud wailing sound of an ambulance siren. Louise visibly jumped, and went pale. She clutched the arm of her chair and shut her eyes.

  ‘Louise!’ cried Cassian theatrically. ‘Are you all right?’ He leaped up and rushed to Louise, who put a trembling hand to her head.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said in a faltering voice. ‘Sirens still make me feel jumpy. It’s stupid, really.’ She grimaced. ‘I wonder which poor person that was for.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that now,’ soothed Cassian. ‘Just lean back and take it easy.’

  ‘Try to relax,’ suggested Desmond.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Karl cheerfully. ‘How about some hot sweet tea? Or brandy? Or …’

  Barnaby’s hoarse voice interrupted him.

  ‘What was all the fuss about?’ he asked bluntly. ‘I came down because I heard some shouting.’

  ‘Nothing for you to worry about,’ said Cassian at once. ‘Just a small misunderstanding. I suggest, Barnaby, that we talk about it later. Now, I’m going to get Louise a glass of water.’

  He got up and pushed past Barnaby, who opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was no point trying to argue with these fellows, he thought gloomily.

  ‘In the circumstances,’ said Desmond, ‘perhaps we might leave it there for the moment.’ He shuffled his papers and snapped shut his briefcase.

  ‘Right,’ said Barnaby reluctantly. ‘Well, I’ll be off, I suppose.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Cassian, returning with a glass full of water.

  ‘Bye, Barnaby,’ said Louise. She smiled at him shakily. ‘Thanks for coming.’

  Barnaby said nothing. He felt irrationally angry, with Cassian, with himself, with Louise, with everyone. As he opened the front door, he heard the voice of that smarmy git, Desmond, saying in low engaging tones, ‘You know, Louise, I’ve always been a terrific fan of your father.’

  Barnaby closed the front door with a savage bang, feeling unsettled by the evening. As he stepped into the fragrant evening air, he said to himself, as he always did, ‘I’m doing this for Katie. It’ll be worth it for Katie.’ But suddenly even that didn’t seem certain any more; nothing seemed certain. Filled with doubts and fears and misgivings, Barnaby made his lonely way home.

  Alexis and Daisy were curled up together in Alexis’s generous double bed when the telephone rang.

  ‘Damn,’ said Alexis. ‘Who the hell can that be?’

  ‘Go on,’ said Daisy, nudging him with her toes. ‘It might be important.’

  ‘Wrong number, more likely,’ said Alexis, snuggling back down.

  ‘Go on,’ persisted Daisy, ‘or I’ll really embarrass you by answering it myself.’

  Alexis gave her a strange unsmiling look.

  ‘That wouldn’t embarrass me at all,’ he said. ‘If you knew …’

  ‘Go on!’ said Daisy, pushing him hard with her toes and giving a little giggle. ‘Serves you right for not having a phone in your bedroom.’

  ‘All right.’ Alexis haphazardly wrapped his dressing-gown around him and pattered, barefoot, down the stairs. Daisy heard him cursing as he stubbed his toe and giggled. She couldn’t hear him speaking bec
ause he was too far away, so she leaned back and looked at the ceiling and thought about the fingering in the third movement of the Brahms.

  When Alexis reappeared at the door of the bedroom, she turned to him with a bright smile, saying, ‘I think I’ve worked it …’ But when she saw his expression, she tailed off. She had never seen Alexis look so shaken.

  ‘Wh-what’s happened?’ she stammered. She felt an old familiar nervousness run through her body. Could it be anything she’d done? Had she upset him, somehow?

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she tried again. Alexis blinked at her, and tried to smile.

  ‘That was Meredith,’ he began.

  ‘Meredith Delaney? Is she OK?’ Daisy peered at Alexis worriedly.

  ‘She’s fine,’ said Alexis shakily. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Then what …’

  ‘It’s Hugh. He’s had a heart attack.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hugh had been put in a private room on the cardiology ward. When Alexis arrived he was lying quite still in bed, his head resting on three plump pillows, his arm attached to some kind of drip. His eyes were closed and his face was pale and he was dressed in a white hospital gown which made him look disarmed and vulnerable. By the window stood Meredith, her shoulders hunched, her face downcast, and by Hugh’s bed sat Ursula, looking small and frail and confused, like a little grey child.

  Meredith was the first to look up.

  ‘Hi there,’ she said. Her voice sounded scorched and cracked. ‘Thanks for coming.’ Alexis met her eyes and then glanced at Hugh.

  ‘Is he asleep?’ he said gently. Meredith nodded.

  ‘I think so.’ She looked at Ursula.

  ‘I’ll take Alexis to get some coffee,’ she said. ‘You want some?’ Ursula looked at her with blank frightened eyes.

  ‘No thank you, dear,’ she whispered eventually. ‘Not just at the moment.’

  As Meredith picked up her bag and shrugged on a jacket, Alexis looked around the silent cocooned room. He surveyed the low ceiling and smooth pale walls; he took in the plastic pitcher of water and blank television screen. The air was heavy and overwarm, and the whole atmosphere was one of oppression. And in the middle of all of it lay Hugh, still and pale and defenceless. Alexis could hardly bear to look at him.

  Outside the room, Meredith gasped and sank down on a bench.

  ‘You don’t really want coffee, do you?’ she asked, wrinkling her brow. Alexis shook his head. ‘It’s just so hard to talk about it with Ursula there,’ continued Meredith, rubbing a hand over her face. ‘I don’t want to frighten her.’ She paused and added in a low voice, ‘I’m real grateful that you came. It was … it was good of you.’

  Alexis looked carefully at her.

  ‘What … What’s the situation? Have they told you anything?’ Meredith glanced down. For a few moments she was silent, then she looked up at Alexis with hot searing eyes.

  ‘Basically, Hugh had a heart attack’, she said slowly, in a voice which was tense with emotion, ‘because he was stressed out. Because all day, all night, he does nothing except worry.’ She paused and ran a thin hand through her hair. ‘Because all he can think about is this fucking court case.’

  She exhaled slowly and reached in her pocket for a cigarette. Alexis stared at her for a moment, then realized he was also holding his breath. He emptied his lungs in a gusty sigh, and watched, almost mesmerized, as Meredith flicked on the flame of her lighter.

  ‘They’re killing him,’ she said suddenly, dragging deeply on her cigarette. ‘They’re fucking killing him!’

  Alexis snapped back to attention.

  ‘Are you sure …’ he began cautiously, then broke off, as Meredith gave him a suspicious glare. He took a breath and tried again. ‘Have the doctors actually said it was stress?’

  ‘More or less,’ said Meredith. She took a puff on her cigarette and hunched her shoulders miserably.

  ‘Did they mention any other factors?’ said Alexis in reasonable tones. Meredith scowled at him.

  ‘Well, of course they did.’

  ‘What, exactly? Too much alcohol?’

  ‘Oh, Jesus! Why are you trying to shift the blame?’ Meredith stood up angrily and her green eyes glittered at Alexis. ‘You know why Hugh had this heart attack. It wasn’t alcohol. It wasn’t too many rare steaks. It was Louise and Barnaby fucking Kember and their stupid fucking court case.’

  ‘Meredith, you don’t know that …’

  ‘Are you saying the case has got nothing to do with it?’ Alexis stared at Meredith silently for a moment, then he sighed.

  ‘Well … no,’ he said slowly, ‘I suppose not.’ There was a short pause. Meredith stubbed out her cigarette, pulled out her cigarette packet, then changed her mind and put it away again.

  ‘But I don’t think’, said Alexis suddenly, ‘that the court case can be the only factor.’ Meredith opened her mouth to protest and Alexis raised a hand. ‘Think about it, Meredith,’ he said firmly. ‘Think about Hugh’s lifestyle. He runs his own business; he drinks a lot – well, I mean, he’s a wine-importer, for God’s sake. And then … he’s had a lot of strain in recent years. You all have.’ Alexis broke off and looked at Meredith, to see how she was reacting. Her face was blank. ‘I don’t think’, he continued, ‘that blaming Louise and Barnaby for this is really going to help Hugh – and I don’t think it’s completely fair, either.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ shouted Meredith suddenly. ‘Stop being so fucking British!’ Her voice bounced off the walls of the little corridor and Alexis’s head jerked up in surprise. ‘I know what you’re saying,’ continued Meredith in shaky tones, taking out another cigarette and lighting it with trembling fingers. ‘I know it’s unreasonable to blame the Kembers for this. I know there are other factors. I know that blaming them won’t help Hugh get better.’ She took a deep drag on her cigarette. ‘But I don’t fucking care, all right?’ Her voice rose higher, and Alexis stared back at her, transfixed. ‘I want to blame them,’ she cried, ‘and I do blame them. I don’t give a shit about seeing both sides of the story. I love Hugh, and he’s had a heart attack, and it’s all their fault! I’ll never forgive them. And if you weren’t so fucking uptight and reasonable, you’d never forgive them either.’

  Alexis stared at Meredith. His heart was pounding with astonishment and, despite himself, a kind of awed admiration. His thoughts flickered between Hugh – blameless honest Hugh, lying in his silent hospital room – and Meredith. Impassioned, unreasonable, warm-hearted, red-blooded Meredith, battling on Hugh’s behalf. In comparison, Alexis suddenly felt old and rather colourless.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘What?’ Meredith gave an exaggerated double take, and the glimmer of a smile appeared on her face. ‘I’m right? Don’t I get a ticking off? Don’t I get a lecture on “forgive and forget”?’

  Alexis shrugged. His face felt dry and his reactions slow.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Maybe I am too reasonable, too uptight. Maybe we need more … more warriors, like you.’ Meredith laughed.

  ‘Hardly a warrior. I picketed against the Gulf War.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Alexis looked at her with serious eyes. ‘I’ve never picketed against anything. You make me feel as though I’ve been sitting on the fence all my life. I wish …’ He spread his hands helplessly. ‘I wish I had a bit of your fire.’

  ‘But I’m sure you have,’ said Meredith quietly. ‘Underneath it all …’ She broke off and, for a moment, Alexis simply stared at her. His eyes ran over her strong intelligent face; her green eyes, still bright with excitement; her high forehead, tanned and faintly lined; her sensitive witty mouth. Her eyes met his, and Alexis found himself caught in her gaze. Suddenly he realized he was holding his breath.

  But then, breaking the spell, Meredith stood up. Alexis felt a slight surprising shock of disappointment.

  ‘I ought to go back,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Hugh might wake up any moment.’

  ‘Of co
urse,’ said Alexis. ‘I’ll come too.’ He gave a heavy sigh and stood up. ‘God, this is a bloody awful affair.’ Meredith glanced at him.

  ‘I know it is,’ she said. ‘That’s what I’ve been saying all along.’

  The next morning was dull and sunless, with a flat white sky and the feel of autumn in the air. Barnaby was walking slowly towards the village shop, when Sylvia Seddon-Wilson stopped her car and called him over.

  ‘Barnaby!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s terrible news, isn’t it?’ Her eyes scanned his face greedily for a reaction, and when his expression turned only to puzzlement, a faint fleeting look of glee passed over her face. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, in tones that didn’t quite hide her triumph at being the first to impart the news. ‘I take it that you haven’t heard?’

  ‘Heard what?’

  ‘About Hugh Delaney having a heart attack!’ She paused dramatically, but immediately her attention was distracted as a car noisily overtook her, hooting as it did so. ‘Shut up!’ she yelled angrily after it. ‘Bloody nerve, these people have got! Anyway,’ she resumed chattily. ‘Isn’t it awful?’

  She looked sidelong at Barnaby through the car window.

  ‘Barnaby!’ she exclaimed. ‘Barnaby, are you all right?’

  Cassian was saying goodbye to Desmond on the steps of the Linningford office. While Karl had taken the first train back to London, Desmond had spent the morning in further meetings and discussions with the Linningford partners. The whole office had been made aware that a big shot from London was visiting, and the atmosphere that morning had been one of slight suppressed tension. Cassian, meanwhile, had sat smugly at his desk, glowing in the knowledge that everyone was well aware that Desmond had stayed with him the night before, and that they were working together on what everyone was now calling the Lord Page case.

  Now he shook hands warmly with Desmond, wondering how many people could see the pair of them from their windows.

  ‘It was very good of you and Karl to meet with the Kembers,’ he said smoothly. ‘And I think we’re really well on course now with the case.’