Wicked Pleasures (24 page)

‘I’m sorry,’ said Virginia, for the hundredth time, ‘I keep telling you, I thought I was acting for the best. I’m so sorry, Baby, Mother was sure it was authentic. She had no doubt that the man was a reporter, that he spoke with a very thick Brooklyn accent. He said…’

‘Oh sure,’ said Baby bitterly, ‘all newspaper men have Brooklyn accents, don’t they? I mean that really clinches it.’

‘Baby, I –’

‘And on the strength of that one phone call, Virginia, you decided to rush in, where not an angel had so much as tiptoed, and talk to Dad about it. Without checking first. It was an insane thing to do. Insane. I just cannot understand you. OK, it had to end some time, but not so painfully, not so publicly.’

‘I’m so sorry, so terribly terribly sorry,’ said Virginia. She felt as if she was in some kind of nightmare: that any moment she would wake up. ‘I just didn’t think – well, all right it was rash. Ill-judged. I was wrong. I’m sorry.’

‘I must say,’ he said, ‘I would not have believed it of you.’

Virginia looked at him for a long time, her eyes heavy and sad. Then: ‘Baby,’ she said, ‘Baby, I did have your good at heart. I really did. I thought I could help.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘you didn’t. You’d better get along and sort our your own affairs. I hope you make a better job of them.’ He turned away from her.

It was months before he spoke to her again.

Virginia, 1973

It had been Baby who had brought them together again; Virginia lacked the emotional chutzpah to force it through. She was awoken early one morning in London by his voice on the phone, loud and cheerful, forcing through her sleepiness. ‘Darling, it’s me. Baby. Look, I don’t know about you, but I can’t stand this any longer. Can we make up buddies?’

Making up buddies was an expression from their childhood; on the rare occasions when they quarrelled, usually as a result of Baby getting away with something that he should not have done, Virginia getting blamed, that was how it would end, with Baby coming to her, a silly expression on his face, waving a white handkerchief, and chanting, ‘Truce! Pax! Make up buddies.’ Virginia had always said then, ‘I don’t want to be buddies with you,’ and he would protest and argue and win her round; that morning on the phone, struggling to sit up, laughing and crying at the same time she said, ‘Oh Baby, yes, yes please.’

‘Thank Christ,’ he said and she realized he was drunk, that his words were slurring, that it was two in the morning in New York. ‘That’s great, Virgy. I guess I’ve been a little – stiff lately. Come and see me next time you’re here, OK?’

‘OK, Baby. And I guess you deserved to be – stiff. Where are you?’

‘Oh, at home.’ This was accompanied by much muffled laughter and spluttering.

‘At home? Baby, you can’t be.’

‘Oh, but I am. Not my home, of course. Somewhere much nicer. A very lovely home indeed. With very lovely people. I have to go now, Virgy. See you soon. Take care.’

‘You take care, Baby.’

That had been over a year ago, and since, they had been if anything closer than ever; the only unspoken rule between them being that they should never refer to Angie or her place in their past. It upset Baby and angered Virginia; it was best left.

‘Well now,’ he said. ‘what can I do for you?’

‘Baby, I’ve rung for advice. Well not for me. It’s Alexander. He’s got – financial problems. He wondered if he could come and talk to you.’

‘Well – yes. Yes of course he could.’ For Alexander to be prepared to discuss his financial problems with Baby was the equivalent of Baby discussing his sexual peccadillos with Alexander: a totally unlikely scenario.

‘You don’t sound very – enthusiastic.’

‘Well, it’s a difficult time. But Virgy, I’d love to help if I can. Really. Why don’t you come and meet me for lunch – let’s see, on Monday. I have a meeting
with the bank’s analysts I’m just desperate to cancel. Four Seasons at twelve thirty?’

‘Thank you, Baby. That’d be wonderful.’

Baby was looking wonderful, she thought; well and happy. She hadn’t seen him since Christmas. She stood up, smiling, as he approached the table; he gave her a hug, rather than kissing the air beside her head as their fellow lunchers were all doing to one another, and grinned back.

‘You look great. I love that dress. And the hat’s a peach.’

Virginia looked down at herself, smiling; she was wearing a beige silk dress with a slightly droopy hem, from Valentino, and a matching cloche hat. She had changed her look altogether, she seemed older, more sophisticated; her eyes were darkly smudged, and her lips were darkly, shinily plum-coloured. She could tell it was all not quite to Baby’s taste – the all-American college girl look (epitomized, somewhat ironically, by Angie) – but he would like the stir she was causing. Baby liked attention. She was not only looking extremely glamorous, she was a big name in smart New York society these days, to the people who lunched at the Four Seasons, an important designer. Several people came over to their table to greet her, to establish their claim on her; she had revamped the enchanting Oxford Hotel in the Upper Eighties, made it look like a very smart, but very elegant private house, restrained but extremely luxurious, a blend of New York glamour and European chic, and it had received a great deal of publicity, been featured in
New Yorker
magazine and
House and Garden
; now the owner, an oil-rich Texan of breathtaking vulgarity who nevertheless knew style when he saw it, had asked her to do three more hotels for him, in Los Angeles, Palm Beach and San Francisco.

‘Well,’ said Baby, ‘so what’s new? Tell me what the problem is with Alexander.’

The problem with Alexander was Hartest. Dry rot, Virginia said. Right through the building. ‘It’s going to cost at least six million pounds.’

‘Well that’s certainly some help he needs,’ said Baby. ‘I don’t know. Things are bad here, you know. The recession is still hitting the stock market. A lot of people have lost a lot of money.’

‘I don’t suppose Dad has lost a lot of money.’

‘No he hasn’t. One jump ahead as always. Pulled some money out of the market, bought a lot of forestry land. For paper,’ he added, seeing Virginia’s puzzled face. ‘It’s the big new thing. And with our base in the publishing industry – well. Oh, and a few more thousand head of cattle.’

‘Well, but what about the bank?’

‘The bank’s fine,’ said Baby with a slight sigh.

Virginia looked at him. ‘And Dad?’

‘Dad’s fine, and getting younger every day, he says. Seeing the recession out, he says. Then he’ll go.’

‘Baby! Do you think he will?’

‘No, I don’t.’

He smiled at her, forced his tone to stay light. ‘Let’s order, shall we? That lobster they’re eating looks awfully good.’

‘Yes, let’s. But what do you think, Baby? Would you let Alexander have that
sort of money?’

‘No,’ said Baby instantly and automatically. Then he pulled himself up. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’ll talk to Dad first. See what he says. He might just – well, no he won’t. Let me handle it, I was going to say. But at least I can spare Alexander the agony of having to spell out every hideous detail.’

‘Thank you, Baby.’

He called her that night and said it hadn’t done a great deal of good. Fred III had been slightly contemptuous of Alexander’s problems.

‘You know what he’s like, he doesn’t understand anyone else’s lifestyle,’ said Baby, careful not to offend her. ‘He doesn’t understand how hard Alexander works. But he says that of course he must come and talk to him, he’ll see what he can come up with.’

‘Doesn’t sound too hopeful.’

‘No, I’m afraid not. But you never know with Dad. As long as Alexander doesn’t expect a blank cheque.’

‘Of course not,’ said Virginia. But she rather thought Alexander did.

Alexander phoned Fred III who told him to come over as soon as he could and to bring Charlotte with him; Alexander said he thought it would be better if Charlotte stayed at home, but he would certainly be happy to bring all the family to Long Island in August. Fred III said he was thinking of going to the Bahamas; would they all join him and Betsey there? When Virginia heard that Alexander had said he would love to go to the Bahamas she realized just how serious his problems must be.

Baby offered to go with her to meet Alexander at Kennedy, to brief him on the ride back into the city and Fred’s office; Fred had insisted he come straight to Pine Street.

‘I’m busy the rest of the day,’ he said to Virginia, ‘and then out of town tomorrow and Friday. If he wants to have my attention, he’ll just have to grab it while he can.’

Virginia sighed. Fred was obviously savouring the situation.

Virginia sat appalled while Alexander talked to Fred III. She occasionally exchanged a nervous glance with Baby. Fred said he wanted Baby there, in case he could contribute to the discussion; Baby knew the real reason was a deeper humiliation for Alexander. And the humiliation was considerable. He had made some silly investments on the stock market and lost hundreds of thousands; he had lost hundreds of thousands more on an abortive stud farm project. None of that would have mattered particularly, the estate and his personal fortune could stand it, Hartest was the real problem.

‘And how much would that cost?’ said Fred.

‘The initial estimates are between five and six million. Pounds.’

‘Jesus,’ said Fred.

‘Yes,’ said Alexander, ‘and I don’t think he’s going to help. I’ve asked him,’ he added, trying to lift the mood of the meeting.

‘Well,’ said Fred, ‘how are you going to raise it? What advice can I give you?’

Virginia watched Alexander carefully. She knew what he was hoping for, and she knew that Fred knew too; and he might get it and he might not, but a long and elaborate game of cat and mouse would have to be played anyway. ‘Well, I don’t know quite,’ Alexander said.

‘You must have a very large fortune tied up in those pictures.’

‘Yes. About ten million.’

‘Well then. Sell a few.’

‘Fred, I can’t. A Van Gogh. A Monet. I couldn’t part with them. They’re part of the house.’

‘They’ll look pretty silly with the rain falling in on them. Sell one; raise collateral on the rest.’

‘Well – yes.’

‘What about Virginia’s money? She has a great deal. Can’t she help?’ He spoke as if Virginia wasn’t there.

‘I wouldn’t dream of using Virginia’s money,’ said Alexander quickly. ‘Besides, it’s hardly on that sort of scale.’

‘Isn’t it? I seem to remember settling a fair amount on her.’

‘Yes but Dad, a lot has gone,’ said Virginia quickly, ‘a lot of the investments I’d made went in the recession.’

‘Well,’ he said, looking at her coldly, ‘you shouldn’t have changed them without consulting me.’

‘I – well, I know.’

He looked at her sharply. ‘Who advised you? Some half-brained ex-Etonian with a daddy in the City?’

‘No.’

‘Well?’

‘A – stockbroker in England, yes. But not half-brained …’

‘I’d like to know his name. So I can be sure never to do business with him. What about your investments here? You have your shares in the ranch still, don’t you? And in Dudleys?’

‘Yes of course. But Father, they don’t amount to six million pounds. That’s nearly – well, pushing ten million dollars.’

‘I can handle that kind of conversion, thank you. It seems to me that you could surely help.’

‘Yes. I could certainly help.’

‘And what’s your opinion on all this anyway? You seem a little surprised by it, in my observation. A wife should make it her business to know her husband’s problems. Your mother has always known about every tiny detail of my life.’ This was so outrageously untrue that Virginia was unable to let it pass. ‘Dad! She hardly knows the name of all your companies.’

‘She would if any of them were going wrong,’ said Fred briefly. ‘I’m surprised at you, Virginia.’

‘Yes, well, she’s very busy with her own work,’ said Alexander, ‘and the children of course, and the house. I didn’t want to worry her.’

‘She doesn’t seem too involved with the children,’ said Fred, ‘she’s always
away from them. Anyway, this isn’t getting us very far. I’d have thought it was perfectly obvious what you should do. Open Hartest to the public. Set up a fun fair, that sort of thing. Hire some guides. Start a motor museum. Run a lottery. Turn it over to the nation, give it to the Queen. Then you get state grants, don’t you? That’s what to do.’

Alexander winced. Virginia felt a stab of sympathy for him. Fred III was clearly enjoying himself greatly. She didn’t say anything, her father was already clearly ranged against her, and it would have made things worse, but she went over to Alexander’s chair and stood behind it. She felt it lent him at least some moral support; he looked up briefly and smiled at her, a weak, wan smile.

‘Did you want to say something, Virginia?’ said Fred.

‘No. Thank you.’

‘You could give up that bloody silly business of yours and help. If you turned Hartest over to the National Trustees or whatever they’re called. Show people round yourself.’

‘Well – yes. Yes, I could,’ she said, anxious to keep him in a positive mood. ‘I would never ask Virginia to give up her work,’ said Alexander firmly, ‘it’s terribly important to her.’

‘Well you’re a fool,’ said Fred briskly. ‘But that’s between you and her.’

‘And besides, I don’t think it would make very much difference. To the bottom line.’ He smiled briefly. ‘Er –’

‘Yes?’

‘I was actually wondering about a loan. On a strictly business basis, of course.’

‘Oh good heavens no,’ said Fred. ‘I couldn’t possibly advise the bank to lend that sort of money. Not just to mend the roof of some building.’ He spoke as if Hartest was a small garden shed. ‘Unless of course you were to open the house to the public. Then I should feel a little more secure about it.’

‘Oh well,’ Alexander sighed. ‘Well obviously I shall think about what you’ve said.’

‘Yes, do. And if you want a buyer for that Monet, I do know a very interested party.’ He smiled at Alexander, his bright blue eyes oddly sinister in his handsome old face. ‘In fact I’d give you a better price than most. You can get some estimates if you like. Just to check.’