Wicked Pleasures (71 page)

‘How horrible,’ said Angie.

Alexander looked at her. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,’ he said again, ‘when we could be talking about you.’

‘I’m not very interesting,’ said Angie.

‘On the contrary,’ he said, ‘I think you are very interesting indeed. You fascinate me.’

‘How old were you when he stopped beating you?’ she said, ignoring this.

‘Nineteen.’

‘Nineteen! Alexander, why did you stay?’

‘I didn’t have a choice, I felt. Of course he was quite mad. Had I been born into a poor family I would have been rescued, I expect, taken into care. But
when such things go on in a house like this, there is a conspiracy of silence.’

‘What did you try to do about it?’

‘Not a lot. If I made a fuss, it was worse for my mother. She was very brave, very spirited, but in the end she gave in too. We both did. We just went along with it.’ He was silent for a long time; Angie sat and looked at him, very still.

‘It was a prison,’ he said, ‘a snare. There was no escape.’

‘Couldn’t you have told a – a doctor or something?’

‘I did once. Told the GP. Silly old fool. He came up here and told my father that he thought he might need help. That he should see a psychiatrist. My father’s reaction was very interesting. He took me along to a mental hospital, not far from here, where he had a friend who was a consultant. He told this man I wanted to do medicine, and made me watch them giving electroconvulsive treatment to some woman. It was ghastly in those days. You didn’t have an anaesthetic. I – was very upset. I was sick. And my father said, quite casually, in the car going home, “You want to do that to me. Don’t you?” I said I didn’t, that he had misunderstood, and he kept on and on, shouting at me, saying I wanted to do it to him. When we got home, he beat me. Very savagely. We never tried again.’

‘This is a terrible story,’ said Angie. She felt genuinely shocked; her eyes had filled with tears.

‘I’m sorry. Very sorry.’ Alexander looked stricken. ‘I should never have started. Do forgive me.’

‘No,’ she said, ‘there’s nothing to forgive. I asked you. I’m just so sorry. So he died – how? And when?’

‘He had a heart attack and died, when I was at Oxford. I’ve never forgotten how I felt when I heard. Not even relief, not even happiness. Just a great peace. The funeral was probably the happiest day of my life, until my wedding.’

‘And your mother? What did he do to her?’

‘I told you. Beat her. Said horrible things to her. Worse.’

Angie looked at him. She saw pain and horror in his blue eyes, and she could imagine what the worse things had been. She had seen bad things herself, amongst her friends and their families, but nothing, she felt, could compare with the claustrophobic horror of this. She sat there, and then she leant forward and took his hand, very gently, and sat there, holding it. She felt very close to him, suddenly, almost as if they had been making love. Alexander looked at her, and tightened his grip on her hand. There were tears in his eyes now and he was obviously moved, shaken by telling her, by remembering.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘so sorry. I shouldn’t have said so much. It’s not a pretty story, I’m afraid. Not dinner-party conversation at all.’

‘This isn’t a dinner party,’ said Angie, ‘and we’re old friends. Aren’t we?’

‘I would like to think so,’ he said, and raised her hand to his lips and kissed it; and then, with a visible effort, breaking out of the strange, intense mood that had been created by his story, ‘Come along, let’s go into the library and have some coffee, and discuss how we are to get to Burford tomorrow.’

‘Alexander –’

‘Yes?’

‘Alexander, supposing you hadn’t had any children. And this house had to pass from your family. To another branch of it. Or be sold. What would you feel about that?’

‘I don’t think,’ he said simply, ‘that I could bear it. I think I would rather burn it down.’

‘I see,’ said Angie.

In the morning he was very cheerful. Max had phoned, he was coming to stay for the night, arriving around teatime from Heathrow. He had been on a trip to Japan, Alexander said. He seemed excited, touchingly so, at the prospect of Max’s visit.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘we had better be on our way. Do you want to bring those children of yours?’

‘God no,’ said Angie, appalled.

The house near Burford was exquisite; a low-built L-shaped seventeenth-century manor house in golden Cotswold stone, called Watersfoot Priory. Behind the house was a walled garden, and beyond that a water garden; there were stables, a tennis court, ‘Even room for a swimming pool,’ said Angie ecstatically. ‘This will do. I want to go and phone the agent and settle things now.’

‘Won’t Baby need to see it?’

‘Baby likes what I like,’ said Angie, sweetly firm.

They went to a pub for lunch and Angie asked them if they could provide some champagne; Alexander told her no pub would have such a thing, but they produced a bottle, a little warm, but good champagne nonetheless, and they drank it with the cheese sandwiches that were the pub’s excuse for lunch, laughing at the incongruity.

Afterwards, they were both too drunk to drive; it was a glorious day, so they went for a walk. Unselfconsciously, Angie took Alexander’s arm.

‘Thank you for coming. It made it so much better. I wouldn’t really have been that decisive on my own. And I think the agent thought you were my husband, so he didn’t dish out quite so much horse manure.’

‘I’m flattered if indeed he should think such a thing,’ said Alexander, smiling down at her.

‘Why?’

‘Well, I must be almost old enough to be your father.’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous. An illegal father if you were. And in that case, so is Baby.’

‘I suppose, yes. But he looks younger than me.’

‘That really is ridiculous,’ said Angie. ‘Oh Alexander, it’s been such a nice day. Such a nice weekend. Thank you. It’s really cheered me up.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I can tell you I’ve enjoyed myself more than I can remember for a very long time. A day of innocent pleasure. I have always liked the distinction between the two kinds of pleasures, innocent and wicked.’

‘Yes,’ said Angie, ‘I remember you telling me that, long ago. Wicked pleasures sound more fun, I have to say.’

‘Oh no,’ he said, ‘not at all. I prefer the innocent ones.’

A muddy Land-Rover shot past them, full of dogs and people in Barbours, shrieking with laughter. Angie looked after it thoughtfully.

‘Oh dear, I hope I’m going to do all right here. Fit into country society.’

‘I think country society will be lucky to have you,’ said Alexander, smiling down at her, ‘and if they don’t take you immediately to their hearts, they will have me to reckon with.’

‘You are so nice,’ said Angie, reaching up to kiss his cheek. ‘Just so nice.’

He bent and returned the kiss; for a moment, just a moment, she felt his mouth on hers, pausing on it, almost thoughtfully, then moving swiftly away. He looked down into her eyes, very seriously, very intently.

‘This will not do,’ he said, trying to sound lighthearted, ‘this will not do at all.’

Max was at Hartest when they got back, sitting in the library, drinking whisky. He stood up when they walked in, and grinned slightly maliciously.

‘Aunt Angela! What a surprise. And what have you two been up to, off all day together, and leaving those poor little babies unattended in the nurseries. That nanny of yours is a peach, Angie; do I detect the hand of Baby in her engagement?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Angie loftily. ‘Baby didn’t even meet her until the twins were born.’

‘Well, you’re very trusting. Or generous. Or something. How are you, Alexander?’

‘I’m well, thank you, Max,’ said Alexander. ‘How was Japan?’

‘Foreign. Didn’t really like it, to tell you the truth. The only really good thing that happened was I got on some crazy game show.’

‘Max! You didn’t! I’m impressed,’ said Angie.

‘It isn’t very difficult. If you can stand up and talk in Tokyo you get on a game show. It’s a funny old place. You can’t understand what’s going on. The only word I learnt to recognize was
kaui
. Pronounced cow-ee. If you hear that at an interview, you know you’ve got the job.’

‘Why were you doing interviews?’ said Angie. ‘Weren’t you on a working trip?’

‘Well I was, but I went for a couple of things while I was there. I’m a bit – well, strapped for cash. Can we have a word about that, Alexander, before I go?’

Alexander looked as if Max had hit him.

‘Before you go? You’ve only just got here.’

‘Yeah, I know, but I have to be in town by nine. Sorry, thought you realized that.’

‘Well,’ said Alexander, with a sigh. ‘I’m a little disappointed. But it’s nice to see you anyway. Shall we all have tea?’

‘Yes, great. Can we have it in the kitchen with those babies?’

Angie laughed. ‘Do you like babies?’

‘Yes I do,’ he said, quite seriously, ‘I like them very much as a matter of fact.’

Sandra was visibly desperate when Angie went to find her in the nursery.

‘Angie, I really don’t think I can take much more. She’s crazy, and she talks to me as if I was a child molester. She actually said this morning she thought it would be better if I took up something else. But then she went on to say that as the babies were half American, she supposed there was some excuse. Honestly, it’s been terrible.’ She looked sulky; Angie felt mildly remorseful.

‘I’m sorry. You can have tomorrow off, if you like. To make up for today.’

‘And yesterday. I’m not really supposed to do more than one weekend a month.’

‘Sandra, you wanted to come down here,’ said Angie firmly.

Serve her right. Teach her to be snobbish.

After tea, during which Nanny held forth at great length on the dangers of foreign food, no one was quite sure why, Alexander and Max disappeared and Angie and Sandra went upstairs to pack. As she carried her brown Hermes gladstone bag through the hall, Angie heard Alexander shouting; she paused, fiddling with the strap.

‘It is outrageous,’ he was saying, ‘outrageous. This is the last debt of yours I will ever settle. Get out! Get out and back to London to that – that horrible life of yours.’

She ran to the front door and down the steps, and was putting her bag in the boot of the Mercedes when Max came running out. He looked very white and shaken.

‘Max,’ she said, ‘Max, what is it? Can I help?’

‘Oh shit,’ he said, and brushed his arm across his eyes. ‘Shit shit shit. No, Angie, but thanks.’ He slammed the door of his car and roared off up the Great Drive.

Alexander hugged her when she left. He looked pale too, but far more composed than Max.

‘It’s been so nice, Angie. Come again. I look forward to having you as a neighbour. And give my regards to Baby.’

‘I will.’

She drove in silence all the way home, thinking about Alexander and the mystery of him.

The phone rang by her bed just as she was going to sleep. It was Baby. How was she, how were the babies, was she missing him? Angie told him she and the babies were fine and ignored the third question.

‘Darling, I won’t be back until Tuesday.’

‘Why the hell not?’

‘Well, I have to see some people while I’m here. Seems silly not to. I’ll be at Heathrow at midnight on Tuesday. Can you meet me?’

‘I’m very busy on Tuesday,’ said Angie, ‘sorry, Baby.’

He sounded very subdued. ‘OK, I’ll get myself home. Lots of love, darling.’

‘Goodnight, Baby.’

When she had put the phone down she suddenly felt very unhappy. What was happening to their relationship? Why was she so hostile to him suddenly? And why was Baby staying over in New York? All his clients, all his business, were in London now. He was always out these days, night after night. He always said she could be with him if she liked, but since she wouldn’t come, he had to manage on his own. For God’s sake, he couldn’t be seeing someone, could he? Someone in New York? Angie thought suddenly and vividly of Caroline Whittiam, godmother to Spike, childhood friend of Baby’s who had come over for the christening, and possessor of a pair of legs so long and perfect that other women made sure to wear long skirts if they knew she was to be at a dinner party, simply to avoid comparison. She had considerable suspicions about their relationship. Like most mistresses, Angie had never met any of Baby’s other friends until she became his official partner. Could he be seeing Caroline while he was over there? What a horrible thought. No, that was impossible. Apart from anything else, he had scarcely enough sexual energy for her, let alone someone else. Shit. That didn’t mean a lot either. He always used to tell her he would be practically impotent with Mary Rose, and then rush down to the Village and screw her over and over again. Angie lay in the darkness, sweating slightly. It was possible. Just. He was still, in spite of everything, a very attractive man. And an extremely rich one. It might also explain his reluctance to let her have any shares. No, that really was ridiculous. The whole thing was ridiculous. Baby adored her. He was helplessly dependent on her. Too dependent. It was a turn-off. Everything was fine. She was just being silly. Angie turned onto her side, and began to masturbate. She always did that, to calm herself. She had to do it quite a lot these days; Baby’s performance left more and more to be desired. As her body exploded obediently into orgasm, it was not Baby’s face that swam before her eyes, nor the arrogantly sexy one of his nephew, but the gentle, aristocratic features of Alexander, Earl of Caterham.