Sextet (49 page)

‘Good news, Col,’ he announced, glancing away from Gini for a second. ‘I’ve been on to that maid of Emily’s, what’s her name? The dragon woman…’

‘Frobisher. And she isn’t a maid. She—’

‘Dear heart, I’m joining you for dinner—isn’t that splendid? Can’t wait. Ah, the champagne. Waiter, well
done
…Who wants my autograph? What, that young woman over there? Of course. Tell her I’ll be delighted. I’ll pop over in a second and have a word. Fans!’ He gave the silent group a look of humble resignation. ‘
Can
’
t
escape them, I’m afraid. Terrible
nuisance
—still, grin and bear it, eh? What was I saying, Gini? Oh yes, your piece on Natasha—
awfully
good. You lady journalists terrify me…What? Yes, we start filming any day now…No, not the husband, rather a dreary role, the husband, I think…I’m playing Gilbert Markham—the lover.
Fascinating
character. Difficult. Tremendous challenge. Rather dark. Sensitive. Immensely
complex
, of course. I wasn’t too sure it was
me
, but Tomas twisted my arm…’

From across the table, Colin caught Lindsay’s eye. He put his hands around his own throat, stuck his tongue out, rolled his eyes and gave a graphic impression of a man dangling from the end of a hangman’s noose. Nic Hicks, moving into overdrive, with his name-dropping rate up to three a minute and accelerating, did not notice this. Markov shot Colin a look of sly amusement; Rowland gave a chilly smile, and Lindsay, who wanted to scream or cry, began to laugh instead.

It was Jippy who finally procured Lindsay’s release. He had remained silent since Lindsay’s arrival, his anxious gaze moving slowly around the group, a sickly greenish pallor settling upon his face. Markov, attuned to his responses, could sense his growing agitation. He saw him look from Rowland to Pascal, and then, fixedly, at a space to the right of Pascal’s chair, where nobody stood. Jippy looked at this space for some while, his expression sad; then, as if following the movements of some invisible person, his gaze travelled around the group, coming to rest upon Lindsay. Markov saw his lips move and leaned closer to him, taking his hand. ‘What is it, Jippy?’ he whispered. ‘Try and tell me…’ Jippy fixed him with a beseeching gaze. His lips and tongue fought the word, and the word would not be said. It began with a ‘p’, Markov could hear that much; Jippy struggled.

‘P-p-para—’ he whispered. Markov squeezed his hand, trying to decode this. Paranormal? Paratrooper? Parasol? Parasite? Parapet? Paradox? He could think of nothing that made the least sense. He looked at Pascal Lamartine’s tense figure; he too had said virtually nothing; his cool grey gaze rested on the figure of Rowland McGuire, seated next to Lindsay. Rowland, who appeared blind and deaf, looked as if he were standing on the edge of some cliff, undecided whether to leap from it or step back. Next to him, Lindsay was making a frantic and nervous attempt to prevent conversation from flagging. She had been discussing the weather for the last five minutes, in the desperate manner of one who, if need be, could discuss its minutiae for the rest of the night. Jippy’s hand gave a small jerk.

‘Paracetemol,’ he said, to Markov, in a low clear voice. Markov gave him a startled look, then, interpreting this as best he could he leaned across to Lindsay.

‘Darling,’ he said, ‘I think I’m going to whisk Jippy away. He has a migraine—and it’s getting worse…’

Lindsay embraced Jippy, to whom she had never felt more grateful, and sprang to her feet.

‘We should go too,’ she said hastily, looking at Gini.

‘Colin, I’ll just fetch my coat…’

Gini also rose. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said.

They left before anyone else could argue or intervene; crossing the crowded room, Lindsay glanced back once. She saw Rowland McGuire rise and then, in a deliberate way, move across and sit down next to Pascal Lamartine. Gini also saw this, and came to a halt in the entrance; Lindsay, agitated and distressed, caught hold of her by the wrist and pulled her into the lobby.

‘Let Rowland speak to him,’ she said. ‘Gini, don’t go back. Rowland will explain—he’ll tell him he had no idea you were going to be here tonight. Oh, Gini, I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly sorry. I didn’t know Rowland was coming—I promise you. I’d never have let this happen…Quick, let’s go upstairs. My coat’s in my room anyway…’

Lindsay ran up the stairs to the first floor, Gini following her more slowly. Entering her room, Lindsay saw with relief that the maids had been in during her absence; the tumbled bed was remade, at least. It had been turned down for the night, but two chocolates had been laid out on the two pillows, Colin’s shirt was draped across the back of a chair and a pair of Lindsay’s stockings was dangling from the back of another. The room still sang of intimacy, and Lindsay began to blush.

Gini followed her into the room, her manner tense. She looked at the ridiculous chocolates, the pillows, the bed. Without saying a word, she moved across to the windows, parted the curtains and looked out.

‘It’s still snowing,’ she said, in a flat voice. She drew in her breath and turned around. Lindsay saw that her hands were unsteady and her eyes unnaturally bright.

‘So—Rowland must have told you about Paris then?’ she said.

‘No, of course not.’ Lindsay’s colour deepened. ‘He would never do that, Gini. I was
there
. It was obvious.’

‘Was it?’

‘Oh, Gini, you know how it is. One look at his face; one look at yours. Don’t let’s talk about this. It’s none of my business. It was a long time ago…’

‘I loved Rowland. In a way, I did. I haven’t seen him since then—not once.’ Gini gave a helpless gesture of the hands. ‘And now—Pascal will be so furious. He’s never really forgiven me, you see. It was all so
fraught
. Pascal found out—did you realize? He walked in on us in our room at that hotel…’ She hesitated. ‘There was this terrible scene; I thought they were going to fight one another. It was I who had to decide in the end. I broke it off, not Rowland. Rowland was devastated.
Devastated
. And now, tonight—he scarcely said one word to me…’

‘Please, Gini. I don’t want to hear this. I—Look, I’m just going to try Tom in Oxford once more. I’ve been trying to get him all evening. Then I’ll have to go…’ She moved past her friend and began dialling. She listened to the number ringing in Oxford—it was one o’clock in the morning in Oxford now. She let it ring and ring, then gently replaced the receiver.

‘It was all so complicated. And so
painful
. The worst moment of my whole life…’ Gini said, as if there had been no interruption. Tears had come to her eyes; Lindsay looked at her uncertainly, wishing she could have reached Tom, knowing that just the sound of her son’s voice would have eased her confusion and distress.

‘Oh, what am I going to do now? What am I going to say to Pascal?’ Gini covered her face with her hands. ‘He can be so jealous, Lindsay…’

‘Just tell him the truth,’ Lindsay said. ‘There’s a simple explanation, Gini. He’ll understand. Look, I’m sorry, but I must go—’

‘I still don’t know why I let any of it happen,’ Gini continued, as Lindsay opened the closet and took out her funereal coat. ‘I look back, and I can’t understand—I must have made a decision, there must have been a moment when I thought “Yes”…But why? It caused so much harm. Was it just because he was there at that particular time? Maybe it was just his appearance…’ She paused. ‘I hope it wasn’t that. But he is so—I’d forgotten how handsome he is…’

‘It isn’t just his looks.’ Lindsay turned away. ‘You know that as well as I do. Gini, don’t pursue this—’

‘I think I could have loved him. I said that to him once.’ Her face now wet with tears, she sat down on the bed. ‘But sometimes I think that wasn’t true, that it was just my excuse. I might have been
using
him…’

‘Gini, I’m sure that’s not so. You wouldn’t do that.’

‘It could be true.’ Gini’s pale face became set. ‘You see, I wanted Pascal to give me a baby, and he was resisting and resisting. That hurt me so much…’

She made a small choking sound. Lindsay, distressed, sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders.

‘Gini, don’t, please don’t,’ she said. ‘You’d been
ill
then. These things can happen. Loving one person doesn’t prevent your being attracted to someone else…’

‘Maybe it was that simple.’ Gini gave her a doubting look. ‘I wish I could be sure, but Pascal changed his mind after I had the affair with Rowland. He was afraid of losing me then, so he gave way about the baby. Perhaps I just used Rowland to manipulate Pascal…’ She gave a small anxious gesture of the hands. ‘Oh, I hope that wasn’t so. I can’t bear to think I did that. Maybe Pascal sees it that way now. He might. Tonight—you know what he said to me tonight? He said I was tenacious, that I always get my own way in the end

‘He said that? Gini, don’t cry.’ Lindsay took her hand. ‘Why did he say that?’

‘Because I asked him to stop covering wars.’ Gini turned her face away. ‘I always promised myself I’d never do that. But I did—after Lucien was born. I was so afraid then. I had these terrible dreams—about snipers, mines, bombs…I wanted Pascal to be safe. I wanted to believe he’d be there when Lucien was growing up…’

‘That’s understandable. Any woman would want that,’ Lindsay said gently. ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself for feeling that way. Even if you’d said nothing, Pascal must have known he’d have to make a choice…’

‘I coerced him—’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘That’s how
he
sees it. His first wife made the very same demands, and now I’m doing it. I’m turning into a second Helen. I was always afraid that would happen…’ Bending her head, she began to cry again. ‘Oh, Lindsay—I feel afraid. I was sitting downstairs tonight and I just felt afraid. I looked at Rowland, and I thought about all the decisions I’d made, and it seemed to me…’ She hesitated. ‘It seemed as if I couldn’t be sure of anything. Not my own motives, not the choices I made. Nothing. I was looking at my own life story, and it seemed so
arbitrary
. Maybe I could have written it differently…’

‘You regretted Rowland?’ Lindsay said quietly.

‘Perhaps. In passing.’ Gini rose and turned away. ‘And I felt guilty for that. I have a son now. I love Pascal. But…’ She hesitated, then shrugged. ‘Love, love, love. I’ve always cared about it too much perhaps. My father made sure of that.’

There was a silence. Lindsay looked at her friend with affection, with pity, and with a certain fear.

‘Is that wrong?’ she began slowly. ‘Love matters more than anything, surely?’

‘Count the crimes committed in its name,’ Gini replied, her manner resigned and her tone hardening.

‘You don’t mean that,’ Lindsay said.

‘Probably not. I’m a woman.’ Gini’s tone became dry. ‘All for love—which might be a strength, or a weakness. Tell me…’ She hesitated, wiping the last tears from her face, then turned back to Lindsay. ‘Tell me, Lindsay. Do you love Rowland? Does he love you? Is that what that scene was about tonight?’

‘I don’t want to answer that. I don’t want to talk about it at all…’ Lindsay rose, and began to put on her black coat. ‘Please, Gini. Leave it. I’m late and I have to go…’

‘He’s not right for you.’ Gini made the statement in a flat way; she gave a small sigh. ‘Lindsay—I have to say this. I
know
Rowland. I know him through and through, and I wish him well. I wish you well. But whatever’s happened between you, you’re wrong for each other. You do know that?’

‘Do I?’ Lindsay turned to face her friend; she felt her heartbeat quicken, as the room became unnaturally quiet. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘For a hundred reasons—every one of which you know yourself.’ Gini paused, then lowered her gaze. ‘Not least, he’d damage you. He’d try to be faithful to you, and then he wouldn’t be…’

‘I see. Thanks. Well, that’s clear, at any rate—’

‘Lindsay, I don’t mean to hurt you…’ Gini’s face became troubled. ‘But someone has to tell you the truth. Just look at it from the most obvious point of view of all—Rowland should marry. He should have children. He needs a woman who can give him children…Not someone your age, Lindsay.’ She hesitated again. ‘I know that’s hard, but you have to consider it—in Rowland’s case and in Colin’s.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t discuss Colin, if you don’t mind.’ Lindsay turned sharply away. ‘Gini, please, don’t say any more…’

‘I liked Colin.’ Gini frowned. ‘He seems sweet-natured, witty, great charm…A bit feckless, perhaps—’

‘Don’t you
dare
.’ Lindsay swung around, white-faced. ‘Don’t you dare to presume you know him. Leave this alone, Gini. What gives you the right to lecture and interfere? I’ll make my own decisions—’

‘Then think before you make them,’ Gini replied, her tone also sharpening. ‘Have an affair with Colin, by all means; have an affair with Rowland, if you don’t mind getting hurt in his case, but just remember—for any man who wants a family, needs a family, you’re too
old
. You can’t start having babies again at forty-one. Lindsay, you’re nearly forty-two—you might not be
able
to have children now. You already have a son, and I know how much he means to you…’ She broke off, her troubled gaze resting on Lindsay’s face. ‘Rowland wants children, I know that. Does Colin?’

‘I don’t know.’ Lindsay averted her gaze.

‘How old is he? He’s never been married? He’s never had children?’

‘He’s my age. And no, no marriage, no children—’

‘Ah, Lindsay.’ With a sigh and an expression of concern, Gini moved forward and rested her hand on Lindsay’s arm. ‘Then
think
. Whatever you may feel about Rowland or Colin, you can’t be selfish here; you must surely see that?’

The words were quietly said, and firmly, for all their tone of regret. After Gini had finished speaking, Lindsay could still hear them echoing and re-echoing in her head. The words shocked her, though indeed, as Gini said, the sentiments expressed were obvious enough. She felt herself give some small, numbed gesture, as if warding the words off.

‘Selfish?’ she heard herself say, in a low voice.

‘You can hurt someone by loving them,’ Gini replied, her eyes becoming sad. She put her arms around Lindsay, and for a while the two women stood together quietly in this embrace.