A High Price to Pay (18 page)

Mortimer. She had treated Alison's decision to go back to work as

some kind of personal affront, and had become twice as demanding in

consequence. And Nick's continued absence had inevitably become

the target for a great deal of fretful and recriminatory comment.

'Can she drive?' asked Mrs Bristow.

Alison glanced at her in surprise. 'She certainly has a licence. My

father insisted she kept it renewed, but I can never remember her

behind the wheel of any of the cars we've had.'

'That seems rather a pity.' Mrs Bristow poured out sherry and handed

Alison a glass, 'It would give her such a measure of independence.

Has she started to go out at all?'

Alison sighed. 'Not really,' she admitted. 'She seems to prefer staying

at home, although she does have visitors, of course.'

'Well, that's something.' Mrs Bristow leaned back in her chair and

sipped at her sherry. 'But all in all, my dear, I can't believe your life is

a very happy one.'

Alison felt that wave of betraying colour suffuse her face again. She

said hastily, 'Oh, it has its moments. And Melanie comes back from

school today. It always cheers Mother to have her around.'

'I can believe it,' Mrs Bristow laughed. 'I hope all the pressures of

examinations won't stifle any of that sunny liveliness of hers. And

that reminds me,' she added, 'she left one of her scarves here. I've

been meaning to post it back to her at school, but you could deliver it

in person, with my love, if you wouldn't mind.'

'Of course not,' Alison said mechanically, but her mind was whirling

suddenly. 'I—I'd totally forgotten she'd been here.'

'Well, it was only a fleeting visit,' said Mrs Bristow. 'Nick brought her

for tea on the way back to school. He probably didn't think it was

worth mentioning.'

Alison noticed she had spilled a few drops of sherry on to her skirt.

She rubbed at the marks with her handkerchief. Nick, she thought

dazedly, taking Melanie back to school? But when? As far as she was

aware, these past empty weeks he hadn't stirred from London. She'd

thought his interests there were paramount, and all-en- compassing,

and now a casual remark had revealed that he had actually been in the

district— visiting her younger sister at school, taking her out. With a

feeling of dread she recalled Melanie's rather confused and halting

explanation why she couldn't come home a fortnight previously. Was

that the reason—that she was spending the time with Nick instead?

Aloud, she said colourlessly, 'She's—very fond of Nick.'

'I'm sure it's mutual,' Mrs Bristow said serenely, unaware of the knife

she was twisting in Alison's confusion of emotion. 'I was only sorry

you couldn't be with them, dear, but Nick told me then how busy you

were these days. Now, let's have some lunch, shall we?'

The food was tempting and delicious, but Alison had to force every

mouthful past the tense muscles in her throat. But it was essential, she

thought as she talked and laughed, to behave with complete

normality. Angela Bristow must never know the shock her words had

been.

It was a relief once lunch was over to be able to have a valid excuse to

hurry away.

'It's been lovely to see you.' Mrs Bristow gave her a robust hug. 'And

bring Melanie to see me during the holidays, won't you—I have great

hopes of turning her into a gardener.'

Alison felt incapable of saying anything in reply to that, so she just

nodded rather jerkily and got into the car, forcing a smile to her lips.

Once safely out of the village, she drew off the road on to the verge,

and switched off the engine, leaning her forehead against her folded

arms on the steering wheel.

Melanie, she thought incredulously, seeing Nick—and not saying a

word about it. That was the important issue—the secrecy of it. She bit

her lip. Oh, she was imagining things. Melanie was just a child. Or

was she seeing her merely as an older sister would, and disregarding

the fact that Melly was a beautiful girl, rapidly ripening towards the

maturity of womanhood? Lovely, vital and intelligent—and attracted

to Nick. That was something she'd never made any secret of.

Surely Nick couldn't be such a bastard as to take advantage of the

situation, she thought desperately. He was flattered, that was all.

There couldn't be any more to it than that. He was a man of the world,

after all, and Melanie was still only a schoolgirl.

Yet nothing could alter the fact that he'd deliberately sought her out,

even while shunning Ladymead and its environs. Or had the approach

come from Melly? She would probably never know.

One thing she had to face—if Melanie had been the older sister in her

place, the marriage would have been conducted on very different

terms. Melly wouldn't have allowed Nick to walk out after only one

night, and return to his bachelor existence in London. But if Melanie

had been the girl in his bed, perhaps he wouldn't have wanted to

leave. She had all the attributes, after all, that any man would want in

his wife.

And Melanie was plagued with none of her sister's uncertainties. She

would know exactly what she wanted from life, and how to take it.

Had she decided, maybe, that she wanted her sister's husband?

Alison winced, pain lancing at her. It was no good telling herself that

she was being a fool. Even fifteen years wasn't such an insuperable

age gap, and Melly would be eighteen very soon, and in charge of her

own destiny. Perhaps she thought her feelings for Nick were

overwhelming enough to counterbalance the inevitable difficulties

that any relationship with him would cause. Perhaps she even thought

they outweighed hurting her own sister.

Or had Nick told her all the details of his hastily contracted,

soon-regretted marriage, letting her believe that ending it would hurt

no one? Apart from that one pitiful little confession of love, which he

probably hadn't even heard, as she fell asleep in his arms, she had

never given him any reason to believe she had any feelings for him at

all, she realised sadly. Yet what else could she have done, when he

had made it so clear to her that he wanted a marriage without any

emotional ties? Perhaps meeting Melanie's fresh vitality had been

what he needed to change his mind about that.

She wanted very badly to cry, to howl her wretchedness and rejection

at the unfeeling sunshine outside, but that was impossible. Besides,

she had no proof. There could be some entirely innocent explanation.

Oh God, she thought, as she started up the engine. There has to be.

The drive at Mascombe Park was choked with cars, as it always was

at holiday times. Alison parked near the tennis courts and walked

towards the main building, realising with a pang that this was the first

time she'd fetched Melanie on her own. Always before, their father

had been there too. The trips home had been hilarious, usually

involving some lengthy detour and a lavish meal, or some other treat.

Today's homecoming would be subdued, for any number of reasons.

As she reached the front door she was pounced on by Miss Lesley, no

less formidable because her face was wreathed in smiles.

'Ah, Mrs Bristow, how very nice to see you! May I take this

opportunity of wishing you every possible happiness?'

'Thank you,' Alison murmured, as her hand was engulfed in Miss

Lesley's firm hand.

'A sad time for you, of course,' the headmistress went on. 'But

Melanie seems to have weathered the storm very well. Her work has

hardly suffered at all. And of course, your husband has been a tower

of strength. Such a charming man, and so generous. His donation to

our building fund—the Sixth Form science block, you know—and

then on top of that, last week, the gift to the library. We are so grateful

to him.' She lowered her voice. 'And I'm sure his visits here have

helped Melanie. The loss of a father can be terribly traumatic for a

girl at her stage of adolescence. I don't normally allow the girls out of

school except at the prescribed times, but I felt I could make an

exception in this case. And your husband's visits have really perked

her up.'

'I'm—glad to hear it,' Alison managed. Every word was like a death

knell. 'We—we didn't want her weekends to be lonely.'

Miss Lesley laughed again, but her attention was passing, fixed on

some approaching parents. 'Well, I can promise you they haven't

been. And her classmates, I'm sure, have been most envious. Such a

very attractive man,' she added with a kind of heavy roguishness. 'Ah,

Mrs Henderson! How very good to see you again . ..'

Alison was released. She moved towards the stairs, her heart

hammering slowly and heavily. It was clear Nick had been visiting

Melanie every week—and the school would assume it would be with

the approval of her family. He must have been very convincing to get

past Miss Lesley, she thought unhappily. The headmistress might

gush and tend to talk in cliches on this kind of occasion, but she was a

shrewd woman and guarded her pupils with dragon-like strictness. A

strictness which Melanie had often rebelled against, Alison recalled

with a pang. Was that how it had all begun—through Melly's natural

wish to shake off the shackles of boarding school life for a few hours?

She found Melanie throwing some last things into her case in the

bedroom she shared with two other girls. She gave Alison a harassed

look—or was it a guilty one? Alison told herself she mustn't read too

much into things.

'I can't find half my stuff,' she declared tragically. 'I'm sure Jane and

Helen just grab everything in sight when they're going home.' She

dropped to her knees and began to root under the bed.

'What have you lost?' Alison asked.

'The scarf that Daddy brought me back from Paris.' Melly pushed her

hair back from her face. 'I can't lose that—I just can't!'

It was in Alison's bag at that moment. All she had to do was produce

it.

Instead she said slowly, 'Perhaps you left it somewhere.'

There was a pause, then Melanie said, 'I haven't been anywhere to

leave it. It must be at home. Perhaps I didn't bring it back after half

term.'

'That must be it,' Alison agreed, a hollow feeling in the pit of her

stomach. 'Are these all your bags?' Yes, the trunk went to the station

this morning.'

They were talking like strangers, Alison realised wretchedly,

exchanging stilted platitudes. There was an awkwardness between

them which she was not imagining, and a distance too. Melly's eyes

had not met hers directly once since she had entered the room.

There was silence between them as they walked downstairs and out

into the sunshine.

'How's Mummy?' Melanie asked at last.

'Much the same.' Alison kept her voice friendly and neutral.

'Well, that's hardly cause for congratulation!' Melanie's voice

sounded sharp. 'Do you think it's a good thing for her to be living at

Ladymead still? Mightn't a clean break have been better for her in the

long run?'

'I don't know.' Alison concentrated on fitting the cases into the Alfa's

boot.

'But surely you must give it some thought,' Melanie persisted. 'After

all, it can't be good for her, sitting day after day, letting the rest of the

world wait on her.'

Alison shut the boot, is that a subtle way of telling me you're not

prepared to run her errands?' She kept her tone pleasant.

'No,' Melanie returned defensively. 'But you must admit she expects a

hell of a lot from us all. And you pander to her.'

'You've clearly been giving the matter a lot of thought,' Alison said

crisply as she slid into the driving seat. 'Shall we wait until we get

home before you start changing the world?'

'Well, there's no need to sound so fierce!' Melanie was clearly taken

aback. 'I was thinking of you, that's all.'

'I'm grateful for the consideration,' Alison said ironically. 'And no

doubt it had occurred to you that you'd have arranged things

differently.'

'No question about it,' Melanie retorted. 'But then Mummy's never

used me like she has you ...' She broke off abruptly. 'Look, we mustn't

quarrel.'

'I hope we shan't,' Alison said quietly. 'Perhaps we should change the

subject. What's been happening at school? Anything interesting?'

'At Mascombe Park?' Melanie asked derisively, it's a major event if a

pigeon lands on the roof!'

'But there was something a couple of weeks ago.' Alison realised she

was gripping the steering wheel far too tightly, and consciously made

herself relax. 'When you didn't come home—a house drama

competition, or something.'