Authors: Lulu Taylor
‘You look different too.’
‘Oh, don’t …’ Jemima rolled her eyes and blushed slightly. ‘I’m hideous, I know. I haven’t had my eyebrows threaded for weeks. My hair hasn’t been touched for a fortnight. I’ve had to give up my usual treatments. There’s just no time. It doesn’t matter all that much, though, as I’m not seeing anyone or going anywhere. Still, there’s a big party next week so I’ll be able to justify a bit of spit and polish for once.’
‘Whose party? Anyone I know?’
‘Oh no. It’s business.’
Harry laughed out loud, rocking back in his chair.
‘What?’ pouted Jemima. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘It’s business! You should see your face – all wide-eyed, as if you’ve never gone to any other kind of party in your life. Honestly, Jemima, usually you’d be rabbiting on about who’s shagging whom, and how much money Toto Boringville is spending on his
birthday
bash, and where you’re going to spend your next holiday – where are you going this year, incidentally?’
Jemima blinked at him. ‘Are you mad? I can’t go anywhere. We’re launching in November. It’s so close and there’s so much to do.’
Harry leaned towards her, his blue eyes serious. ‘Well, well, I do believe you’ve found a purpose in life. At last. And do you know what? It suits you.’
Jemima felt affronted. She had always had a purpose in life. Perhaps it wasn’t so obvious as Harry’s – he had this house to maintain. But hers had been to live happily and well and to enjoy herself. She had to admit, though, that these last months had been absorbing and interesting. She had learned so much … ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she conceded.
‘I am right. You know what? You look younger, without all that gunk on your face and that perfectly glossy hair. You look natural, pretty … and you’ve got a spark about you that says you actually do something with your brain.’
Jemima stared at him. She couldn’t pretend it wasn’t very nice to be complimented by Harry. But really – what was the point? It was ironic that he was starting to respect her now, wasn’t it? When it was all too late.
‘Is my spark as interesting as Letty Stewart’s?’ she asked quietly.
Harry said nothing but stared out towards the lawns that stretched away to the dark woods beyond. Only his knee twitching gave away his inner turmoil. She watched and waited, the silence between them
stretching
out until she was desperate to break it herself. At last he spoke.
‘It’s true that Letty has visited me here a couple of times. She came with Rollo and Emma. She’s a very sweet girl. Lots of fun.’
‘I’m
sure
she’s simply masses of fun,’ Jemima said tartly. ‘But I can’t say I found her terrifically amusing.’
Harry shot her an agonised look. ‘Please, Jemima. Let’s talk about this sensibly without getting snide or nasty or upset or rude.’ He took a gulp from his wine glass. ‘I asked you here because we need to talk about where we stand, about what’s happening between us. We need to talk about the future of our marriage.’
‘
Is
there any future for our marriage?’
‘That’s what we have to find out.’
‘Are you in love with Letty Stewart?’ she demanded. She realised that the question had been drumming away inside her head for weeks now and that she was desperate to know the answer. She had come prepared for Harry to make a great declaration of his new passion, of his desire to divorce her at once. The fact that he’d been so friendly, that he’d talked to her about the estate and about Trevellyan had wrong-footed her. Now she remembered how badly she needed to know.
He stared at her, his gaze skimming her face and body. He looked down at her white T-shirt, straining tightly across her chest, the slim jeans, the striped canvas and cork sandals on her feet. He looked at her soft blonde hair, longer now, falling in loose waves over her shoulders. For a moment, she thought he was going to reach out to her, but he didn’t.
‘You sent me to her,’ he said at last. ‘Remember? You told me to go to her bed.’
‘So I suppose you went and screwed her, did you? How you must have hated that! Don’t pretend it was my fault; you were slavering over her all bloody evening! You didn’t need much encouragement.’
Harry took a deep breath. ‘Look, I promised myself I wouldn’t let this degenerate the way it usually does. We always get furious with each other and then call each other names, then someone storms out and that’s the end of rational discussion for another six months. Not this time. We have to get past that.’
‘How can we?’ whispered Jemima. A soft breeze blew her hair across her face and she brushed it away. ‘You’re sleeping with someone else.’
There was a long pause. Harry seemed to be struggling with himself. Then he said slowly, ‘But, Jemima, look at what you’ve done …’
Her temper flared up again. ‘Oh, I knew it wouldn’t be long before we got on to that!’
‘We have to talk about it!’ exclaimed Harry. ‘We have to talk about the fact that you’ll shag anything that moves. Do you know how that feels for me? When I walk into a room and know that you’ve had half the men in it and will probably have the other half before too long? I know you cheat on me, and I know you get pleasure from it, from knowing I know. You want to punish me, and I don’t even know why. Christ!’ He buried his head in his hands. When he spoke his voice was muffled. ‘I even had to see it with my own eyes.’
‘I only do it because you don’t love me!’ she cried.
Then
she stopped suddenly, abruptly.
What did I just say? What the
hell
did I just say?
He looked up at her, and rubbed his hand through his fair hair, leaving it spiky and dishevelled. ‘How can you say that, Jemima?’ he said in a small voice. Then, loudly, ‘I fucking adored you! You said you loved me too. We got married, we promised to be faithful to each other, and I believed we meant it. And then you slept with Guy!’
She stood up, her voice trembling. ‘You didn’t understand about that, you’ve never tried to understand. I tried to explain –’
‘What was there to understand?’ he demanded. His eyes were angry now. ‘I walked in on my wife and my best friend, and he had you up against the wall, fucking you. I could see his bare arse moving while he pumped into you, and your face … you were in fucking ecstasy. It was only when you realised I was there that you stopped looking like a pig in shit. Don’t try and tell me that you didn’t enjoy it, that he made you do it.’
‘He didn’t
make
me do it!’ she protested. ‘But he gave me no choice! He set out to seduce me, he knew exactly my weak points, he made it his mission to charm me, to get me …’
‘But Jemima, you did have a choice. You could have said no. You could have said “I’m married and I love my husband, I belong to someone else”, but you didn’t. You said yes! You let it happen.’
‘I know, I know …’ Her hands were trembling now, her legs felt weak underneath her.
I’m usually so strong, so capable. Why do I feel like a child?
She knew why it
was:
she had been in the wrong. She needed forgiveness. She longed for his pardon, but she didn’t know how to ask for it and she was terrified that the answer would be no. She was afraid that Harry would turn his back on her and banish her, just as her father had turned his back on her all those years ago. So she had decided to show him that she didn’t care, that she wasn’t sorry, that she didn’t love him. But the truth?
She couldn’t face the truth, even now. She knew that. It was too painful, too dreadful. She turned towards the house and started to stumble away.
‘That’s right, Jemima! Run away, just like you always do,’ cried Harry.
Her eyes filled with hot tears. She heard up him stand and come after her. She began to hurry towards the terrace doors but he caught up with her and grabbed her hand, turning her round.
‘Please,’ he said in a desperate voice. ‘All I’ve ever wanted to know is
why
. We were in love, I know we were. I would never, ever have cheated on you. Why did you sleep with Guy?’
She couldn’t meet his gaze. She stared down at the grey-green stone of the terrace. It was blurred by tears. They spilled over and ran down her cheeks. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, her voice cracking. ‘I’m so sorry.’ The words seemed so feeble, so incapable of expressing the bitter regret she felt over a moment’s weakness. ‘He flattered me. He paid attention to me. When you were out, hunting or fishing or working, he was always there, ready to talk and laugh. He sympathised with me because you left me alone so much, and I was
bored
in the house all day with nothing to do. It was such a change from my life in London. But Guy was there.’ She sniffed and tried to wipe away the tears that were falling faster and faster. ‘I can’t really explain how powerful he was, he knew exactly how to charm me. He was jealous of you, I realise that now. He wanted to win me from you, even if only for a moment. I think he just wanted to know that he’d had your wife. He couldn’t have your title or your money or your house, but he could get you where it would hurt you most.’
‘But you
let
him,’ whispered Harry. ‘How could you know all that and still let him?’
‘I know it now. I didn’t know it then. I didn’t realise how stupid I was being, how easily I was falling into his trap.’ She stared at him, straight in the eye. ‘You know that all my life I’ve yearned for affection. I’ve always expressed it physically. I realise you’re not the same as me, that you don’t treat sex the way I do. For me, it was always fine to sleep with partners, friends, strangers … as long as you’re both happy it’s OK. I was young, I didn’t really understand what a marriage meant. I didn’t anticipate how seriously you took it. I didn’t appreciate how deeply what happened with me and Guy would wound you. But now, when I think about you and that … that Letty …’ She began to sob. ‘I’m so jealous! It hurts so much. Now I realise how you must have felt. I don’t know how to tell you how sorry I am. I was stupid and selfish, and I wish, wish,
wish
it had never happened.’
He put his arms round her and hugged her closely. She pressed her head against his chest, remembering how warm and sweet it had always felt.
‘Can you forgive me?’ she whispered between sobs.
‘Jemmie, Jemmie,’ he murmured.
Her sobbing eased off and she felt calm. She pulled back to look at him.
He gazed down at her. His own eyes were wet. ‘It’s so hard. I want to forgive you. But I can’t, not after … If it had just been that, then perhaps we might have got over it. But the baby …’
She cried out, pulled away from him and dashed inside, half blinded by her tears and the sudden indoor darkness. She ran through the drawing room, down the hall and found herself in the library. Inside, she looked wildly from wall to wall as though expecting to see a getaway route. When there was none, she ran to the library steps, a polished mahogany ladder on a rail that could be moved smoothly across the high shelves. Crawling behind it, she curled herself up and buried her head in her arms, crying softly to herself.
A few minutes later, she heard Harry come into the room and walk slowly over to her. He crouched down beside her and put his hand lightly on her head.
‘Don’t cry, old girl,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sorry, I really am. It must have been so terrible to lose it like that. I feel for you, even if it was Guy’s baby.’
She lifted her head and looked up at him, her blue-grey eyes still filled with tears. ‘But Harry,’ she whispered. ‘It wasn’t Guy’s baby. It was yours.’
39
THE ATRIUM WAS
too hot in this weather, Tara decided. In the winter it was deliciously warm, but on a day like today, it was like lunching in a greenhouse. Still, this was her first lunch out with girlfriends in an age, so she ought to try and enjoy it.
She, Susannah and Olivia had met at the Chelsea restaurant for a lovely, relaxing girly lunch. It had been supposed to be a way to forget about all the stresses and strains of the week but of course, the rogue photographers hanging around outside her house had reminded her that life was far from back to normal. And then they had spent most of the time talking about the situation with Gerald over their chicken liver salads.
‘It’s just so awful, darling,’ Olivia said sympathetically. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if Jeremy put me in the same situation. I’d probably throw him out too.’
‘It’s not quite as straightforward as that,’ Tara said, but she didn’t want to go into detail even with her
closest
friends. It was too private and painful to talk about.
‘So what are you going to do now?’ Susannah asked.
‘The house has got five viewings today.’ Tara shrugged. ‘It’s in a very desirable location. You can’t fault Gerald on that. Perhaps he should have gone into property, he’s always had an eye for a good house.’
‘Where are you going to go?’ Olivia asked, picking up a morsel of lettuce on the end of her fork and looking at it appraisingly.
‘I don’t know. I’d like something with some charm, some character. But to get the space we need for the value of half the Holland Park house – well, I don’t know. We might have to go south.’
‘Richmond?’ asked Olivia, raising her eyebrows.
‘Or Wimbledon?’ enquired Susannah, pouring out some more fizzy mineral water.
‘I was thinking about Clapham.’
‘Oh, poor darling,’ cooed Olivia. ‘Are you sure that’s necessary?’
Tara laughed. ‘You don’t know it at all, do you? There are lots of lovely houses round there, and very reasonably priced too. You can get a large house in a great location with a big garden for around two to three million. And these days, there are some real bargains to be had.’
‘Really?’ Olivia looked astonished. ‘Only three million?’
‘Yes. So I’ll easily be able to afford something decent with the half of the money I get from Holland Park, and still have something to tide me over until I get Trevellyan
back
on the road or have to go back to my old job.’
‘Will Eric take you back?’
‘I hope so,’ Tara said thoughtfully. ‘He knows I was damn good at my job.’
‘Yes, but Curzons are thinking of cutbacks, or so I gather.’ Susannah gave her a concerned look. ‘You know how things are so much tougher in that market at the moment.’