A Rage to Live (23 page)

Not a word from the bedroom, not a sound. Tommy slipped into a black cotton Japanese kimono edged in white satin and walked into the bedroom. Cressida was sitting on the edge of the bed. There was something in the look on her face that made the years roll back for Tommy. The many years he had loved her. Cressida as a mere child of fourteen, how he’d watched her grow into the beautiful and exciting and clever woman that she now was. He was not rationalising his
actions, it was true. If he did not have a complex love affair that could not go anywhere, she would still have been enough woman for him. And if … What was the point? Ifs didn’t count.

The other woman was rarely out of his thoughts but Cressida was the woman he could marry. He had learned to live with that and now he vowed to himself no more self-pity, for Cressida’s sake, as well as his. For the sake of his marriage. He went to her. Overcome with emotion, he dropped down on his knees and placed his head in her lap. He took the ring box from her hand and removed the ring and placed it on Cressida’s finger. Then he kissed her hands, first one and then the other. ‘I do love you, you know.’

‘I love you too, Tommy.’

‘You will marry me?’

Urgency? A note of desperation? Real need? They were all there locked up in that all important question. Vicki had been right, Tommy needed her. She didn’t love Tommy the way she wanted to, with undying passion. But love him she did as much for his sake as hers. She was going to marry him because she believed they would make all the right compromises to have a good life together, and because she thought she could make him happy by saying yes. A sad thought. Their long romance was over. Tears came into Cressida’s eyes for the man she did love and who had abandoned her. Tears came into Tommy’s for the other woman in his life.

‘Yes.’ She repeated it again. ‘Yes.’

‘A quiet wedding, I think. In Martha’s Vineyard. We’ll talk about it later.’

They dressed. She did wear something festive. He wore a cream – coloured linen suit and they both felt terribly excited. It was indeed a celebration but they both somehow became terribly shy about meeting their friends and announcing their plan to marry within the next few weeks.

Tommy was actually relieved when she said, ‘I know that this is going to sound crazy but this is such a private moment for us. Do you mind if I miss out on the Carlisle and we don’t tell anyone until tomorrow? I would like to tell my father first. Let him be the first to see my beautiful ring. Oh, God, did I tell you how much I like it? That I think it is so pure and aesthetically perfect, I love it.’

He began to laugh. ‘No. You didn’t, actually.’

‘I do, I do. Oh, how awful of me. It got terribly emotional there for a minute, and I forgot.’

‘Forgiven, don’t give it a second thought.’

‘Tommy, now more than ever I’m sorry about letting you down, not going away with you and Vicki. Vicki, I nearly forgot about her. Wait
till she sees my ring. She’ll be very happy for us.’

‘I know she will. OK, you call me at the house in Martha’s Vineyard after you’ve told Byron, and then I’ll tell my parents. When will I see you?’

‘I’ll pack some things now for my stay with my dad at the Plaza. You can drop me off there if you would and then go on to the Carlisle. I’ll fly out to be with you on the island next weekend. How’s that?’

‘As good as I can get, so it will have to do. We will, after all, have the rest of our lives to be together. What’s a few days?’

Tommy watched her while she packed and was delighted when he caught her stealing glances first at her ring and then at him. She looked flushed with happiness and he wondered why he had been so foolish as to wait so long.

At the reception desk of the Plaza Cressida was told she would find her father in the Palm Court. Tommy tipped the porter, and with Cressida’s case disposed of, they walked arms linked through the hotel to greet Byron.

The two men were good friends. They shared a love for Cressida and for sailing, and on occasion raced against each other. But though Tommy liked Byron as a man, and respected him as a scholar, he did not understand him. Nor could he comprehend Byron’s relationship with his wife and his daughter.

Still Byron was one of those men who attracts people and Tommy never passed up a chance to see him. The Palm Court was abuzz with people. ‘Over there, Cressida, there he is.’ Tommy had spotted Byron sitting at a table under a palm, completely indifferent to all going on around him. Cressida smiled. Whenever she saw Byron he brought a smile to her lips. He was always fun, a joy to be with, so wise. He still looked handsome and dashing in that very attractive, kind of reserved, New England fashion. His was a fiercely attractive charisma. He was reading a book, a double martini on the table in front of him and a bowl of salted nuts. No dragon wife to watch over him, he was in his element. Cressida placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up from his book and rose from his chair. He kissed his daughter’s hand and hugged her and then kissed her on the cheek. He shook hands with Tommy who declined an invitation to stay.

‘Not even for a drink, Tommy?’

‘I can’t. I’ve people waiting for me over at the Carlisle, just came to say hello.’

‘See you tomorrow then?’

‘Won’t be here, leaving the city tonight for Martha’s Vineyard. Come and visit, Byron, any time.’

‘And Vicki, she’s well? And the parents?’

‘Everyone’s fine, Byron. Just take care of Cressida and have a good stay while you’re here.’

The two men shook hands again and Tommy turned to Cressida. ‘If you have to reach me for anything, use the mobile telephone. We’ll be leaving the city no later than nine, nine-thirty tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow from the island.’ He kissed her, and was gone.

‘You look beautiful, daughter.’

‘It’s really good to see you, Byron.’ There was never that awkward moment between Cressida and Byron that can happen in families when they meet after a long period of time. Within minutes they were chattering away.

After two martinis, doubles, a bottle of Bollinger, chilled consommé, lobster salad, pan fried potato cakes, and a very large ice cream covered in hot chocolate sauce, they left the Plaza. They window shopped down one side of Fifth Avenue to Rockefeller Center and up the other side of the Avenue back to the Plaza.

In the suite Cressida went to her room and changed into a dressing – gown, then father and daughter sat together in a comfortable deep sofa and watched a late night movie. ‘
Casablanca
, yet again, Poppy?’

‘You know I can never tire of this movie or Ingrid Bergman. Come to think of it, you look a little like her, Cressida.’

‘You say that every time we watch this film, Byron.’

‘Do you mind seeing it again?’

‘No, I am as addicted to it as you are, Poppy.’

Byron turned to look at his daughter. ‘It’s years since you’ve called me Poppy. When you were a child you used always to call me that when you wanted something or were overly excited about telling me something. Is that the case now? Has it something to do with that sparkler on your finger? Tommy, I presume?’

‘Yes, Tommy. I’ve been wanting to tell you all evening. I thought the ring did.’

‘Oh, it did, dear.’

‘Then why didn’t you say something, Byron?’

‘A gentleman never asks a lady about her jewellery. Not even a daughter after she is of a certain age. It might be embarrassing.’

‘Byron, always a gentleman. Well, you have my permission, say something now.’

‘It must have cost him a bomb.’

‘You know that isn’t what I mean.’

‘Are you going to marry Tommy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, that’s some question, Byron.’

‘How about an answer?’

‘What kind of answer did you expect?’

Byron used the remote control to lower the sound. He watched Humphrey Bogart chastise his piano player for playing ‘their song’ and that first look across the room between Bergman and Bogart on seeing each other again. The fatal love affair. He turned back to Cressida and placed an arm round her shoulder. “‘I love him” would have been an answer.’

‘I do love Tommy. I wouldn’t marry him if I didn’t love him.’

‘There are all kinds of love, Cressida.’

‘Don’t you want me to marry Tommy, Byron?’

He was silent. He rubbed his chin, and then taking several strands of her hair in his fingers, played with them and finally spoke. ‘No. I don’t think I do. I don’t mind you marrying him. It’s more that marriage is a long hard slog, it’s better if you marry for a grand passion, a kind of madness for the other person.’

‘Is that what you did?’

‘Yes, actually. In both cases. I know Carol is a rotten step-mother, wicked, a bitch actually. But love doesn’t look for character. Well, maybe love might, but the grand passion certainly doesn’t. I’d like you to feel about your future husband the way you felt about Kane when you were a child. You were always so vital, alive, you had the spark of love for him. If you can have that as a child, why should you settle for less as an adult? That’s it. The problem with you and Tommy is that you have chosen to marry without a grand passion to draw you along. And you have a passionate nature.’

‘So does Tommy.’

‘Great, as long as you both have it for each other. Do you?’

‘No.’

‘Then why are you marrying him?’

‘To make a home with him, have babies. He loves me more than anyone else in the world.’

‘That’s not true. You don’t know that. I suggest you get out there and look around, take some chances, find out if that’s so. Even if it were true, that’s no reason to marry, not for a girl like you.’

‘It helps, Byron.’

‘Cressida, I don’t want to put a damper on this marriage. If you want to marry Tommy, just make sure you are going to have a happy time. All I’m trying to point out to you is, you don’t
have
to marry.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Just that.’

‘You don’t believe I love him?’

‘Yes, I do, Cressy, but for all the wrong reasons. You know me, I
believe in the grand passion. Whether for love, a man’s work, his play, sex. I always believed you did too, much as you try to hide it.’

‘That’s true about you, Dad. But I’m not you. You’re always so wise about people, so clever. You’re forcing me to face myself when you make a statement like that.’ A few seconds of silence. Byron had made his point.

‘Well, if you do marry Tommy, my wife will be madly jealous. Another thing for Carol to mark up against you.’ He began to laugh. They were both on to Byron’s wife and her irrational hatred of Cressida, which they both thought ridiculous even though they were aware that it had, to some extent, ruined Cressida’s life. ‘I’m not much of a run-of-the-mill father, Cressy, and this isn’t a question I expect those sort of fathers ask, but are you happy in bed with Tommy? If the sex isn’t great, Cressida, it will never last.’

‘Byron!’

‘That’s a fact of life. Maybe not for everybody, but for you, Cressida. I know my daughter. You’re like me. More like me than any of my children were. A free spirit in every way. Being trapped isn’t for you. Now, I’ve said all I can on the matter. Played devil’s advocate, and the concerned father. I love you, Cressida, and if it’s to be Tommy, then Tommy will be fine by me, and you’ll have my blessings.’

It was after two in the morning when father and daughter said goodnight and Cressida returned to her bedroom. But there was no sleep for her. The bedside lamp kept being switched on for her to look at her ring. The conversation with Byron kept turning over and over in her mind. Wise old Byron. Too wise, maybe. Their conversation changed nothing. She was happy, really happy, that she had made the decision to marry. She was delighted at the prospect of having a real home of her own, and children, of being a more permanent part of Tommy’s adventurous life. Strangely, the more she thought about the future, the more she felt herself falling in love with him. As the early hours of the morning slipped away she began to feel quite lonely for him. It was as if she were already a permanent part of his life.

At five in the morning, and still wide awake, Cressida rose from bed and decided to do some work. Only then did she realise she had left her portfolio in Tommy’s library. A compulsion to work on her designs took her over. She dressed. Once she’d stepped out of the hotel, the unbearable steamy heat hit her. It really took her breath away. After giving the address to the driver, Cressida sat in the back of a yellow cab fanning herself with her hand. She found something exciting, surreal about the deserted streets, the jets of steam rising from dark and mysterious places under the tarmac, and the air hot and fetid with the smell of the city. The night was so still, oppressive, strange.

After asking the cabbie to wait for her, Cressida stepped from the cab and hurried up the stairs. She used her key to open the front door, switched the hall chandelier on and went straight to the library. The portfolio was exactly where she had left it. At the front door again, she switched off the light. She looked over her shoulder, her careful nature causing her to check the darkened house. That was the first time she looked up the stairs. The lamp on the hall table at the head of the stair had been left on.

‘Typical,’ she murmured under her breath. She left her portfolio leaning against the front door and took the stairs to the first floor. Having switched the lamp off she was then aware of a light having been left on in Tommy’s dressing-room. No surprise there. He and Vicki tended to be sloppy about closing the house properly when they were in a hurry to get away. She switched the hall lamp back on and walked directly into the dressing-room. What did surprise her was that Tommy’s clothes were lying over a wing chair, his shoes in the middle of the floor, a woman’s dress casually dropped on the ottoman, a rippling pool of black silk.

The house was not empty. Tommy had not flown to Martha’s Vineyard. A stunned Cressida told herself this isn’t happening, but she knew very well it was. There had to be an explanation.

The door from the dressing-room into Tommy’s bedroom was ajar. A hint of light from the far side of the room. The lamps on either side were on. They cast a warm soft light. She should know, she had been in that bed enough times. Stealthily she made her way to the door and, placing the palm of her hand against it, gently pushed it open.