You’re exhausted, you need taking care of. I hope this Mr Bingham of yours is going to realise that.’
‘I think he will.’
‘Good. Well, anyway, you drink this. It’s got a dash of
whisky in it, and loads of honey. And real, full cream milk.’
‘Daddy, honestly. I’ll put on—’ She realised she was
saying absolutely the wrong thing, amended it hastily. ‘I’ll
never wake up in the morning. And I have to get packed.
And anyway, I have to see Minty, we’re going to be apart
for a week.’
‘That’s all right. I’ll wake you up, drive you down to the
house. And then you can get a cab to the airport if that’s
what you prefer.’
‘We’ll have to be away from Phillimore Gardens by
eight.’
‘That’s all right. Not a problem. Oh, by the way, there’s
a message from Caroline, the nanny.’
‘Caroline? What is it, is there something wrong?’
‘No, nothing. She says she would like to take Minty to
stay with her mother for the weekend, and if she doesn’t
hear from you, she’ll do that. She’s left a number.’
‘That’s a very good idea,’ said Octavia, who had been
worrying about Caroline and Minty being alone in the
house. ‘Oh, dear, it’s a bit late to ring now. Caroline does
like her sleep. But I’ll see her first thing of course, when we
go down, won’t I?’
‘Yes, of course you will. I presume Caroline is to be
trusted, and that her mother is a decent sort of woman?’
‘Daddy, you are such an old snob. Caroline’s mother is
an extremely decent sort of woman, as you put it. She went
to Roedean, as did Caroline.’
‘Really? How extraordinary. That’s all right, then. Drink
that up, darling, before it gets cold. Now look, there’s one
thing I’d like you to do for me, out in Barbados. There’s
some new legislation coming in apparently, relating to
property held by offshore trusts, as of course Mossaenda is.
They have to be reregistered in Barbados, and subject to a
transfer tax. Bloody nuisance, and probably expensive, but there it is. So you might go and see Nicholas Greenidge, find out a bit more about it, tell him I’d like to have a look
at all the bumf. I could do it on the phone and so on, but
it’s a bit complex, and I know he’d like to see you. Would
you mind?’
‘Of course not. It’s the least I can do. And thank you for
being so positive about the sponsorship thing. You’re so
good to me. ‘Night, Daddy.’
‘Good night, my darling. It’s so lovely to have you
home.’
Romilly woke up feeling sick. She looked at her clock: only half past five. Her period had finally started the night before and her stomach still hurt. But she pushed the sheet
down, examined her stomach carefully - it was very
satisfyingly flat. So it had all been worth it. But she did feel
very odd still. She reached out for the small magnifying
mirror she kept by her bed, examined her spot. Gone.
Quite gone. Just a slight, dry, rough bit of skin where it had
been. That couldn’t be a problem. And she’d know what he
meant when he told her to do things today, wouldn’t be so
nervous. She just wished he wouldn’t call her ‘little baby’ all
the time. It really didn’t help.
Caroline was also awake. Minty had been restless and
miserable all night; it had been very hot, and she was
cutting a huge molar. Anyway, it was nice and cool now.
And London was quiet. No traffic, anywhere. Pity they
couldn’t leave now for Hampshire. It would only take
about an hour and a half.
She heard Minty start to whimper and went in to the
nursery. Minty was standing in her cot, her small face
crumpled with sleep, the tooth-cutting side livid and red.
She looked at Caroline, held out her arms. ‘Up up up,’
she said, imperiously.
Caroline picked her out of the cot; she smelt awful, the tooth was taking its toll on her nappies. She went into the bathroom, ran her a bath. Minty sat in it, filling and refilling
the plastic beaker that was her favourite toy, her small head
bent over it, intent on her task, happy and calm again.
Outside the pigeons were cooing; a small breeze had got
up. It was very peaceful, it really would be an ideal time to
go—
And then she thought that of course they could. Octavia
hadn’t rung back, so Caroline felt no obligation to wait for
her. Tom had clearly done a runner, probably off with his
ladyfriend, whoever she was. Why wait for the heat and the
traffic to get up and subject herself to a ghastly drive with a
fretful child?
Caroline picked Minty out of the bath, gave her a banana
and a drink, packed a small bag for them both, wrote a
polite, if cool note to Octavia, explaining what she had
done, and was halfway down the M3 before Octavia had
even left Hampstead.
Serena Fox had hardly slept at all. She was very upset. The
affair she had been conducting with a young girl from the
Paris office was beginning to go badly wrong; the girl had
made it very plain that she found Serena unbearably
possessive.
Serena knew she was possessive, it was her worst sin, but
the girl was so very lovely and so very young; Serena knew
perfectly well that at thirty-five, she was regarded by her
more as a meal ticket than a lover. In a few weeks, it would
be quite over, Marie France would have found someone
else, and she would be alone again. It was always happening
to her. And she didn’t like being alone. Solitude frightened
Serena, left her feeling confused and threatened.
Well, today should be fun, a distraction; she and Ritz
were both going to the session with Romilly, and Ritz had
even suggested dinner together. Ritz, who had an
extremely aggressive heterosexual sex life, rather surprisingly
enjoyed such evenings; quiet, introspective, gossipy.
And she had one thing in common with Serena: she had a
very low opinion of men in general, and Alix Stefanidis in particular.
Marianne lay, smiling, in Nico’s arms, in the vast bed at
Number One Devonshire Gardens, one of Glasgow’s most
beautiful hotels. She was flushed with love, with sex, with
triumph, with release; happiness soared through her,
winged, birdlike.
‘My darling, I love you. God, I do.’ He sat up on his
elbow, studied her, his eyes probing her face. ‘And you are
so very very beautiful. And so very, very — young.’
She reached up, pulled him down again, kissed him,
laughing. ‘Nico, you’re allowed to say I’m sexy, and I really
don’t mind you saying I’m beautiful, but I really can’t lie
here and let you call me young. It devalues the rest.’
‘My darling, you are young. You’re not yet forty. To me
that’s a child.’
‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ said Marianne. ‘And don’t present
yourself as an old man either, you’re only forty — what?’
‘Forty-six. I’m hurt that you don’t remember.’
‘Sorry. Anyway, of course I’m not a child, I have three
grownup children of my own.’
‘That’s precisely why you don’t see yourself as young.
Just because you went into this absurd slavery of a marriage
straight from the nursery. Plenty of women of your age are
having their first children these days.’
‘I know. And very silly it is too, in my opinion. You find
yourself dealing with teenagers when you’re sixty. When
you should be having grandchildren.’
‘Nonsense. Absolute bloody nonsense. Imagine you with
grandchildren, sitting in a rocker …’
‘I hope I will be. Well, not sitting in a rocker, I plan to
be a very fun grandmother.’
‘Marianne, you have the body of a twenty-year-old, and
a face your daughters no doubt envy. Do stop talking about
becoming a grandmother. Look, why don’t we go and
climb into that enormous and rather vulgar marble bath and
I’ll order some coffee and we can plan our day. Or we could just lie in the bath - or possibly not even just lie there …”
An hour later, as she lay limp with exhaustion on the bed,
he sat beside her, playing with a lock of her hair, sipping
thoughtfully at a glass of orange juice.
‘I love you,’ he said, ‘I love you very much. Tell me you
love me, Marianne. Please tell me. Or tell me you think
you might be beginning to at least. That’s not very much to
ask, surely.’
And finally, setting the past, her difficult past with Felix,
more firmly in its proper place, she said, ‘I think, Nico, that
I might be beginning to, yes.’
‘You’re up early, Daddy. Are we going to see Mummy
today?’
‘Yes, we are. Just for a bit. Then we’re going on to see
that nice little girl Megan, the one in the wheelchair. I’ve
said I’ll go up to Bartles House with her, to take some
photographs. You know, the one they want to pull down.
And then her mummy has very kindly invited us to lunch.’
‘That’ll be nice. I like her mummy. She has a very good
face.’
‘She does, doesn’t she?’
Tom woke at seven thirty feeling appalling. Bloody hell,
where was he? Not at home, surely? Maybe in some hotel
room - yes, in some hotel room. Jesus, he needed a pee; he
swung his throbbing legs over the edge of the bed, closed
his eyes again against the whirling room.
The room whirled further; better get the eyes open, then
it would steady again. He opened them determinedly, and
found himself staring into the kindly face of Bob Macintosh.
‘God,
Bob,’ he said, ‘what on earth have we been up to?’
And then made it to the bathroom just in time.
‘I have to get home,’ he said twenty minutes later,
sipping alternately iced water and weak tea. ‘I have to sort
out this bloody mess with Octavia before she goes to Barbados. She probably still thinks I’ve gone to Tuscany
with that wretched woman …’
‘Oh, no!’ said Octavia. ‘They’ve gone. I wondered why she
didn’t answer the phone. Daddy, this is awful. I haven’t
even seen Minty, haven’t kissed her goodbye. Oh, I feel so
terrible—’
Her eyes filled with tears, staring at Caroline’s terse note;
she felt terribly remorseful. How could she have done that,
stayed away from Minty just because she didn’t want to see
Caroline?
‘I’m such a lousy mother,’ she said. ‘I don’t deserve those
children.’
‘My darling, you’re a wonderful mother. You do as
much as you possibly can. More, if anything. That’s why
you’re so exhausted. Look, Minty will have a wonderful
time with Caroline and her mother, and it is only a week.’
‘I know,’ she said, blowing her nose, ‘I know. But well,
it’s too late now. I’ll try and phone Caroline from the
airport, she’ll be at her mother’s by then. I’d better go and
sort out my stuff.’
It was almost eight when Tom finally phoned Phillimore
Gardens, Bob Macintosh having persuaded him that
attempting to get there under present circumstances was not
only unwise but virtually impossible. Felix Miller answered
the phone.
‘Felix? Felix, it’s Tom.’
‘Tom? Oh, really. Where are you calling from?’
‘The Mayfair Hotel.’
‘The Mayfair? I thought you were in Tuscany.’
‘Of course I’m not in bloody Tuscany! There never was
any question of my going to Tuscany, and I need to talk to
Octavia to tell her so. Is she there, Felix, can I speak to her?’
‘No, Tom, I’m sorry, she’s not. She’s on her way to the
airport. She’s going to Barbados, you know. With this man
Gabriel Bingham. Who, I might say, seems to have a little more respect for her than you do. I really cannot begin to tell you—’
‘Yes, Felix, I know what you cannot begin to tell me.
Well, I’ll just have to ring her on her mobile.’
He slammed the phone down.
‘Daddy! Was that the cab? I’m just about ready. Oh, damn,
I’ve forgotten my sunglasses. Hang on — shit, they’re in the
study, I remember. I’ll have to go and get them. Now what
was I saying — oh, yes, was that the cab?’
‘Yes,’ said Felix Miller, ‘yes, that was the cab. Just
coming down the street now apparently. Now goodbye,
my darling. Have a wonderful time. Don’t worry about
anything, just enjoy yourself. And eat something, every day.
Promise me.’
‘I promise you. I’ll just get my glasses. Hold my bag,
would you, just a second … Right. Here I am. You don’t
think I ought to try and get hold of Caroline, do you?
Before I go?’
‘No, I don’t. Go on, darling, quickly, you don’t want to
keep the cab waiting. Here’s your bag. ‘Bye, sweetheart.
Send your old daddy a postcard.’
‘I will. Big hug.’
As the car pulled away, Octavia realised, just slightly
anxiously, that she didn’t after all have her mobile phone
with her. Odd, she’d been so sure she’d put it in her bag.
Well, too bad. It wouldn’t be much use to her in Barbados.
She could ring Caroline from the airport. That would be all
right.
Felix Miller, left alone in the house, carefully rinsed out the
coffee cups he and Octavia had been using, checked that
the burglar alarm was on and all the gas taps off, and went