The Vow (13 page)

Lucy had to wonder if there might not be more than a little truth in that.

~

The paintings were very much to Lucy’s liking; abstract land, city and seascapes made up of cubes and triangles of iridescent pastel colours. As they strolled around the gallery, martini cocktails in their hands, she told Marcus,
‘These are just the sort of pictures I would have liked to paint, if I had been good enough. I must tell Dad about this exhibition, he’ll just love them too.’

‘
Then we shall buy him one as a wedding present.’

‘
Really? Oh, he would be so thrilled!’ gasped Lucy. ‘But Marcus, they’re awfully expensive.’

‘
My dear Lucy, you must learn to be freer with my money or you’re really not going to have enough fun,’ he told her mockingly.

The thought which went through her head was that he didn’t know yet just how much she had spent Monday morning.

As if reading her mind he went on to say, ‘The dress is charming by the way. So, which canvas will it be?’

Lucy insisted on looking at them all again, trying not to notice the prices as she didn’t want her choice to be influenced in any way. Sensing a possible sale the gallery owner dispatched a waiter to replenish their glasses and went off in search of the artist so he could be introduced.

Standing in front of a representation of a storm over water, Marcus said, ‘That reminds me, I’m considering having a swimming pool put in at Graylings. I’ve thought about it before but Helena was very afraid of water, the ornamental fountain was pushing the limit for her. But if the summer is going to be as long and hot as they say then it might be rather nice. If it’s not too enormous and well screened I don’t see why it couldn’t be incorporated tastefully. What do you think?’

‘
I think it’s a great idea,’ Lucy enthused. ‘But will you be able to get it done in time? I thought they took ages to do and that the companies were booked up well in advance.’

He gave a short laugh.
‘You will come to realise that if you are prepared to throw enough money at something, you can get what you want, when you want. I’ll start the ball rolling tomorrow morning before I leave.’

Their host arrived with the artist in tow; a pale scrawny young man who looked as if he was suffering for his art. They settled on the picture for Kit and a small red sticker went on its frame. Lucy felt very excited. They left the gallery deep in conversation about how satisfying it was to be able to give someone something they would really appreciate. As they stepped through the door out onto the pavement a photographer appeared out of nowhere, the flash on his camera went off in their faces and he beat a hasty retreat.

Saule, who had just pulled up, was quickly out of the car and about to set off in pursuit but Marcus gave a slight shake of his head. There were too many people watching. Once inside the car he told Lucy dryly, ‘I’d be sure to check Martin Culver’s column on Saturday.’

~

Eight-thirty Saturday morning found Lucy sitting on the bottom stair, still in her dressing gown, waiting for the paperboy. As she heard him coming down the path she was up and across the hall like lightning. She grabbed the newspaper as it emerged through the letterbox causing young Steven to report to Mr Patel, the newsagent, that 14 Fairfield Road now had a dog who was likely to have your fingers off.

Spreading it out on the kitchen table she was all fingers and thumbs as she looked for Culver’s page. Finally finding it she groaned out loud at what she saw.

A yawning Amy came through the door followed by Alex, his uncombed hair standing on end. Heading for the kettle she enquired, ‘Morning, Luce, you’re up early for a Saturday. What are you groaning about?’

Lucy stabbed the page with her finger and said indignantly,
‘Mr Martin let’s paint Lucy as a money grabbing little tart Culver, that’s what!’

They came to look over her shoulder.

‘Nice picture though, Luce. At least you look like a pretty money grabbing little tart,’ offered Alex.

‘
Oh, that’s a great comfort,’ retorted Lucy. ‘Just listen to what he has to say. “Pictured leaving the opening of emerging new artist Theo Lattimer’s exhibition at the Albany Gallery, Marcus Delacroix and Ms Lucy Weston look engrossed in conversation. No doubt there is plenty to talk about with the news surfacing this week that Delacroix is to be knighted in the New Year. Ms Weston, young enough to be Delacroix’s daughter and with a string of ex-lovers, must be thinking this one is worth hanging onto. Wealth and a title can be such a temptation. It’s hard to know however exactly what Delacroix has done to merit an honour other than, of course, attempting to prop up the policies of this disappointing government in all of his publications.” ’

Turning to her friends with a gloomy expression she added,
‘Not very flattering to either of us, is it? And where is he getting his information, how does he know about the knighthood, how did he know where we’d be the other night?’

Alex couldn’t help but noticed how quickly Amy jumped in with possible explanations.

‘All journalists have their sources, you know that. Look at Catherine, if she can find out then why not Culver? The government is as leaky as a sieve. As for the other night I expect it’s the same as when you were photographed outside that restaurant. He’s paying staff to let him know when anyone he’s interested in shows up. I notice the Albany Gallery gets a good plug out of it.’

‘
I suppose you’re right,’ said Lucy. ‘But I’ve a good mind to go round and punch him on the nose!’

‘
Oh I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Amy hastily.

Alex gave her a long hard look.

‘Well, you know what’s going to happen next,’ Lucy said wearily. ‘The phone will start ringing with my raft of parents, stepparents and ex-stepparents wanting to put in their two-penny-worth. I think I’ll just record an announcement on the answer phone, “The tart Lucy Weston is too busy counting her boyfriend’s money and trying on tiaras to come to the phone.” ’

At that moment the phone rang.

‘See I told you so and it’s only ten to nine!’

Amy answered on the second ring.
‘Oh hello, yes she’s just here, I’ll pass you over.’

Handing Lucy the phone she told her,
‘It’s Marcus.’

Lucy walked into the hall to take the call and Alex asked Amy,
‘Are you sure you don’t know more about this, Amy?’

Turning her back on him to start making the tea, she replied,
‘Of course not, how would I?’

Lucy returned some minutes later looking slightly happier.

‘That was Marcus,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘He’s in New York, the article’s been faxed to him, and he doesn’t seem all that bothered. He says it doesn’t matter about the knighthood bit, the whole point of it being leaked is to give it an airing. Apparently one of the business papers has picked up on it too and has been far more flattering about it. Culver is just being spiteful about me. I should rise above it he says. Easy for him to say, he’s not the one whose morals are being questioned in a national newspaper!’

‘
No, but he is being made to look like he’s being suckered by a pretty face when at his age he should know better,’ Alex pointed out.

‘
True,’ admitted Lucy. The phone started to ring again.

‘
Here we go!’

When Lucy arrived for work on Monday morning she found a copy of the newspaper report pinned to the door of her workshop. From behind the slightly ajar door of the next unit came the sound of muffled laughter.

‘Come on out this minute,’ she demanded.

Spyder, the co-operative’s administrator and Zoë, in whose studio they were hiding, came out into the corridor. The long and lanky Spyder made a deep bow and Zoë swept her a curtsy before they both dissolved into unseemly mirth.

‘Lady Lucy, we are yours to command,’ Spyder managed to get out.

‘
You are both being very childish,’ Lucy told them, trying to keep a straight face but failing dismally.

Wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes the tiny, fairy-like Zoë said,
‘Blimey, Lucy, you’re a dark horse! We had no idea you were moving in such exalted circles these days. I’m surprised you have to come here each day, working your poor little fingers to the bone making baubles for the masses and consorting with us rough lot when you’ve got a millionaire boyfriend stashed away.’

‘
Multi-millionaire, if you don’t mind,’ retorted Lucy. Taking down the press cutting she waved it at them and went on, ‘But as you now know, I’m a calculating and promiscuous baggage who probably doesn’t deserve to mix even with the likes of you.’

Putting his arm around her Spyder said sympathetically,
‘Don’t worry about that, Lucy, we don’t mind. No one’s perfect you know! Anyway, reporters are the scum of the earth. I should know, my brother’s one! No one believes what they read in gossip columns.’

‘
I hope not,’ she replied mournfully.

‘
I think its all jolly exciting,’ Zoë told her. ‘I’ll make the coffee later and you can tell us all the sordid details.’

Settling down to work on her orders Lucy thought of the various reactions there had been to Culver’s comments. The call immediately after Marcus had not been
from her mother, as she had expected, but her grandmother.

‘
Having seen the paper this morning I just had to ring to remind you of what I said last week. I missed the other photo, not really my sort of newspaper you know, but I’ve got my old chum Adele staying, you remember her, she was married to that completely mad Scottish playwright Rory Macintosh, dead now of course. Anyway, Adele has rather plebeian reading tastes, all those years of living in dreary Scotland I suppose. Apparently tomorrow we will be having some rag she refers to as The News of the Screws. I’m rather looking forward to that!’

Lucy listened patiently waiting for
Elizabeth to come to the point.

‘
So this morning at breakfast she turned straight to this man Culver’s page, it’s one of her favourites, and there you were. What a handsome man, Lucy dear, so distinguished. And soon to be knighted, perfect! You know, I’m sure, that your poor grandfather managed to die just before he should have received his knighthood. I was so disappointed. I always thought Lady Elizabeth Davenport had a particularly nice ring to it but there, I don’t suppose he could help it. I should really enjoy having Lady Lucy Delacroix for a granddaughter, so remember what I said, if you like him and he treats you well, marry him. Bring him to see me soon, I’ll look him over and tell you if I think he’s a good bet.’

Lucy could only wonder what they would make of each other.

Retrieving her mobile phone from the bottom of her bag later that morning, Lucy had found a text message.

Filthy rich and about to get a title, don’t let this one get away, Lucy! If you’re upset about what that little shit Culver has said about you, don’t be, it’s not worth it. The press have said far worse about me! Lovely frock, but next time wear it with higher heels. Back on Wednesday, will call you. Love and kisses Ellen. PS. Exactly how many lovers have you had?!!

Lucy smiled as she read the message, she could almost hear the model’s soft breathy voice, and the words of support cheered her up. It had been lunchtime before she heard from her mother.

‘
Please don’t start, Mum,’ she begged.

‘
I wasn’t going to start anything,’ Amelia answered evenly. ‘I was just calling to see how you were.’

‘
Oh, thanks. I’m alright I suppose, although I don’t much like the things that reporter is saying about me. You’re a solicitor, can’t you do something?’

Amelia laughed.
‘Like what? It’s hardly libel you know! We live in a free country with a free press. I agree he’s not being very nice, or fair for that matter, but in the end he is simply voicing his opinion, he hasn’t told any outright lies. I’m sure if he does then Marcus’s people will come down on him very quickly.’

‘
That’s all very well,’ Lucy objected, ‘but he has a very large audience for his opinions and I don’t have the right of reply.’

‘
Well just imagine what it’s like to be really famous and be constantly maligned and misquoted,’ pointed out her mother. ‘Anyway why worry about what people you don’t know think about you? Your family and friends know what you’re really like.’

Suddenly Lucy felt a wave of guilt; was she really the person they thought her to be or was Martin Culver nearer to the truth? She changed the subject slightly.
‘So what do you think about the knighthood?’

‘
I’m not at all surprised; it was only a matter of time. But what do you think about it, Lucy?’

Lucy felt wrong footed.
‘I’m pleased for Marcus, it’s obviously important to him.’

‘
And to you?’

‘
It has nothing to do with me,’ she responded in an irritated tone. ‘I’ve only known the man a month, it’s not like we’re married or anything.’

‘
Quite,’ replied Amelia.

Lucy heard from neither her father nor Catherine. Amelia had mentioned Kit was in
Ireland photographing racehorses and after their conversation last week Catherine obviously had nothing to add.

Just before eleven Lucy hung out her
Back in ten minutes
sign and went next door for coffee. Zoë was a potter of great talent and originality, and Lucy loved her studio, the walls of which were painted in bright Mediterranean colours making it seem sunny and warm even in the depths of winter. Today with the sun streaming in it was the sound of the sea you expected to hear through the open window not the incessant rumble of inner city traffic. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air.

‘
Ah, there you are, sit down if you can find a space, coffee is just about ready,’ Zoë told her.

Lucy had just moved a pile of magazines off a director’s chair when Spyder arrived with a packet of chocolate biscuits, a sure sign that it was an important occasion.

Passing her a coffee mug Zoë asked with interest, ‘So come on then, how did you meet Sir Marcus Whatshisname?’

Lucy recounted the story of her chance meeting with Marcus whilst her two co-workers listened, agog and munching on chocolate digestives.

‘I can see I shall have to start hanging around airports,’ Zoë commented. ‘So I suppose he’s been showing you a good time?’

They were fascinated as Lucy told them of her various excursions with Marcus.

Hearing about the charity ball Zoë piped up, ‘Then we must have you to thank for last week’s visit from the famous lady thespian. Her and her friend mentioned they had been into see you but now I know why.’

‘
Oh, did they come into you too?’ asked Lucy.

‘
Certainly did, the friend bought a pair of those porcelain vases you like, best sale I’ve had all month. I can see you’re going to be a huge asset to this place, Lucy Lou, with all your new rich friends,’ Zoë responded. She went on to ask, ‘So is it serious then?’

What could she say?

‘Yes, yes I think it is actually.’

‘
Well good for you! The next important question is, has he got a friend?’ Then laughing Zoë went on, ‘But I don’t suppose I’m really the wealthy older man’s idea of a trophy girlfriend.’

Lucy and Spyder looked at her. With her shoulder length multi-coloured hair pulled up in a spiky cascade on the top of her head and her pierced eyebrow, nose and tongue, they had to agree. They shook their heads in unison.

Zoë sighed. ‘All I want is a nice bloke who doesn’t lie, or cheat, or want to treat me like a doormat.’

‘
Rare as rocking horse pooh they are,’ commented Lucy.

‘
There’s always me, Zoë,’ offered Spyder, pushing back his hair and giving her his best profile.

‘
You’ve already got a girlfriend.’

‘
No, I haven’t. We’ve split up.’

‘
Oh, you never said.’ Zoë looked at him appraisingly and Lucy had the feeling she was witnessing the start of something.

Returning to work Lucy found a well dressed woman in her late forties standing at her door reading the sign.

‘Hello, I’m sorry, have I kept you waiting?’ she asked with a smile.

The woman turned towards her and offering her hand said,
‘You must be Lucy. I’m Lydia Fanshawe.’

And you do have a pointy little nose Lucy thought as she shook the older woman’s hand. She wasn’t sure why but she took an instant dislike to this friend of Marcus’s as she stood confidently assuming Lucy knew who she was. She could not bring herself to acknowledge that she did indeed know so she said nothing, but still smiling she unlocked the door and ushered
Lydia in.

‘
I had lunch with Marcus last week and he mentioned that you made a few trinkets.’

Thanks a bunch, Marcus, Lucy thought but kept on smiling.

Lydia continued, ‘It’s my daughter Pandora’s birthday soon and I thought perhaps you might have something she’d like.’

Lucy just couldn’t help herself.

‘I could make her a box,’ she offered.

Lydia
looked at her quizzically, not getting the joke. Pleased that she had scored a point Lucy told her sweetly, ‘Well, there are examples of most of my things in the display cases and of course they can be adapted and personalised.’

Lydia
began to browse half-heartedly through the items on show. Lucy became convinced she had an ulterior motive for her visit.

‘
Of course, I knew Marcus’s late wife Helena very well. Such a sweet person, her death was a tragedy. Marcus really hasn’t ever got over it.’

Lucy made no reply and
Lydia went on, ‘Early fifties can be a dangerous time for some men. They worry that their best years have gone and sometimes try to prove otherwise by having relationships with much younger women.’

‘
Are you saying Marcus is having some sort of midlife crisis?’ Lucy asked in measured tones.

With a brittle little laugh
Lydia replied, ‘No, of course not, he’s above that sort of thing. But I do think that if he now feels ready to seek the company of a woman again then someone of nearer his own age and from the same sort of background would be more appropriate.’

‘
Like you, you mean?’ Lucy was getting cross now and there was an edge to her voice.

Lydia
smiled, her tone patronising. ‘Lucy, I’m only trying to give you a friendly warning. I shouldn’t like to see you get hurt.’

Oh yeah, like you care, thought Lucy.

‘It really isn’t likely to last, is it?’ Lydia continued. ‘You must realise I know Marcus very well and believe me he will soon tire of your girlish charms. You simply don’t have the maturity to give him the kind of companionship an older woman could.’

Lucy decided this was war. In the same patronising tone she came back with,
‘Possibly not, but then an older woman couldn’t give him the children he wants. We are planning quite a big family.’

Her reward was the stunned expression on the face of the enemy. Getting into her str
ide Lucy lied through her teeth. ‘We may not have many intellectual conversations, but we do have an enormous amount of fun practising for that.’

A dull flush crept across
Lydia’s face, almost throwing aside the necklace she had been inspecting she picked up her handbag and headed for the door.

‘
There’s nothing here Pandora could possibly want. Goodbye. Lucy, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

Lucy sat down. N
ot usually confrontational she felt exhausted.

~

The week passed quickly, the temperature rose every day and London, along with the rest of the country, lapped up the sunshine. Every lunchtime hundreds of office workers could be found eating their sandwiches in the city’s parks, men abandoned their ties and the women tried to get some colour on their winter-white legs. Weathermen continued to forecast cloudless skies and the population began to believe them, planning barbeques and trips to the beach.

The day after his return from Ireland Kit called in to see his daughter. Asked how it had gone with the racehorses he told her,
‘Big, smelly, dangerous things, but I have to admit they are very beautiful and there is something noble about them. It was fun trying to catch it on film. You could have come with me but the assignment came up rather suddenly. Do you want to work with me again now you’re back?’