Almost a Crime (33 page)
says no, we’ll have to go out with a begging bowl. Bad
publicity, though.’
‘It’s all bloody bad,’ said Tom. ‘The other clients won’t
like it either. I’ve already had Cadogan on the phone,
asking me if Octavia’s got any Western Provincial shares.
Meant to be funny of course, but still …’
‘Oh, to hell with it,’ said Aubrey. ‘It’ll pass. And I’m sure
the bank’ll play ball.’ He sounded more confident than he
looked.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Tom.
‘Tom, it was hardly your fault.’
But it was: in a way. And they both knew it.
Marianne was in the middle of an argument with Zoe’ when
Nico Cadogan phoned.
‘Hallo, Marianne. I’ve been missing you.’
‘Oh. Yes. Hallo.’
‘I’m just ringing to confirm the arrangements for tonight.
I’ve booked a table at the Waterside Inn.’
The Waterside Inn, at Bray. One of the loveliest, most
romantic, most expensive restaurants she knew. Taking her
there spelt out Nico Cadogan’s intentions very clearly
indeed. She couldn’t go. She wouldn’t go.
‘Look, Nico—’
‘Yes?’
‘You see, the thing is …” said Marianne rather helplessly
and to her rage felt herself blushing. Zoe was watching her
interestedly.””’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, I’ve been thinking, and—’ She realised Zoe had
recognised an opportunity and was sliding out of the door
with a distinctly shrewd expression in her green eyes. She
waved, grinned and disappeared; the front door slammed.
Marianne felt foolish and ruffled. A dinner. One dinner.
What harm would it do? And it would be easier to explain
then, to say it must be the last occasion, than on the
telephone.
‘Sorry, Nico. Bit of domestic admin. No, I was only
going to say could we go slightly later? Yes, seven thirty
here would be fine. I’ll be ready.’
She’d be very ready. Outside the front door. The last thing she wanted was Romilly realising she was going out with a man who wasn’t Felix.
Meanwhile she had to do something really very unpleasant
and tell Alec about Romilly.
‘She is going to be big trouble,’ said Ritz Franklyn, putting
the phone down on Marianne, looking across her desk at
Serena Fox. ‘We have to find some way of working round
her. Otherwise we’re going to lose that girl.’
‘What did she say, then?’
‘Oh, that she’d phoned her husband, that he was very
unhappy about it, that Romilly was far too young, that
there was no question of her going over to New York, she
was going to have to rethink the whole thing. And she
hasn’t actually signed anything, has she? Shit, Serena, what
can we do?’
‘We could shoot the campaign over here. I think I could
swing that. It would look like a huge concession to her
fears, it might calm the bitch down.’
‘She’s coming in to see me tomorrow. Could I put that
to her?’
‘I’ll come along,’ said Serena, ‘float it as an idea. No
point getting everyone worked up about it if she doesn’t
bite.’
‘Yeah,’ said Ritz, ‘or if Daddy changes his mind. They
often do, once the first shock is over. It’s a lot of money.
And Romilly has to hear about it yet. Fifteen-year-olds can
be pretty voluble. Even little angels like Romilly.’
‘I suspect she may not be allowed to hear about it.’
‘Well, we can fix that one …’ said Ritz.
‘Outrageous,’ said Nico Cadogan, ‘but I’m glad you told
me.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, now I feel impelled — or is it compelled? - to take
you away for the weekend instead.’
‘Nico, of course I can’t come away with you.’
‘Why not? You’re not married to Felix Miller. Most
fortunately for you, I’d say. You’re not married to anyone.
Therefore if you would like to come away with me, you
are absolutely able to do so. And I know you would like
to.’
‘You know no such thing.’
‘Oh, but I do,’ he said, ‘I really do.’
He took her hand, which was lying on the table, and
began to massage her palm very insistently with his thumb.
Marianne looked down at her hand, under siege from his,
hoped he could not see or feel the fronds of desire
uncurling from it, moving slowly, insidiously, deep within
herself, stirring, disturbing her.
‘Look at me,’ said Nico. ‘Look at me, Marianne, and tell
me you don’t want to come away with me this weekend.’
‘I don’t want to come away with you this weekend,’ she
said. Not looking at him.
‘You’re a terrible liar. Really terrible.’
‘If I did — which I don’t,’ she said, with a huge effort, ‘I
wouldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘For reasons of loyalty.’
‘Loyalty? To a man who puts his daughter’s needs before
your own? Fails to support you when you need it?’
‘Nico,’ she said?laughing, ‘you’re exaggerating terribly.’
‘Yes,’ he said unexpectedly, ‘I know. I’m prone to
exaggeration. I always think sex is a rather exaggerating
thing, don’t you think? The pleasure it gives is quite out of
proportion to logic. I mean, who would think that — oh,
yes, thank you. Put it there.’
The waiter had arrived with a great bowl of wild
strawberries. Marianne was so grateful to him she almost
kissed him.
She pulled her hand away, leaned back in her chair,
stared out over the water. It was a perfect evening, the sky
brilliant turquoise still, with the purple rising into it, and in
the blue, the moon, virginal white, a star trailing beneath it.
‘“Softly she was going up,”’ said Nico, following her
gaze, ‘“and a star or two beside.” Two of the most beautiful lines in the English language. Do you like poetry, Marianne?’
‘I do, but I’m rather illiterate, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Music
is my great love. Do you like music?’
‘Sadly, tone deaf. Is that very bad?’
‘Very bad. There can be no relationship between a tone
deaf person and a musical one, I’m afraid.’
‘Then I shall take music lessons. Immediately. Perhaps
you could teach me. The only music I like is opera. Very
orgasmic’
There was a pause, then he said, ‘Such a good word,
orgasm, isn’t it? So onomatopoeic. First the drawing
together, then the tightening, then the wonderful explosion
of release. The climb and then the fall …’ He stopped,
smiled at her, picked up her hand again, kissed it gently.
‘Come away with me, Marianne. You know you want to.’
‘No,’ she said, and made her fatal mistake. ‘I might want
to, but I really can’t.’
He looked at her and smiled. ‘I can be very patient, you
know,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait.’
‘He’s not going to do it, is he?’ said Tom gloomily, as they
walked out of the bank into Lombard Street after a
preliminary discussion.
‘He might,’ said Aubrey. ‘Don’t start sinking the ship
before its time. And you mustn’t see this as entirely down to
the Carlton debacle. We were in trouble months ago.
Bastard’s right, our expenditure is huge, but the real
problem was that we were under-capitalised from the
beginning.’
‘It’s very good of you to be so magnanimous,’ said Tom,
‘but the fact remains if this bloody business with the wood
hadn’t cropped up now, we’d still be flying along. However
close to the wind. And I feel above average responsible, I’m
afraid. Christ—’
He stopped, wondering if he should come clean, talk the
whole filthy mess over with Aubrey; Octavia had said he
must have known something had been going on, she was
probably right. And a bit of self-flagellation might ease his
misery.
‘Look,’ said Aubrey, cutting in on him smoothly, making
it plain he wanted nothing of the sort, ‘we all make
mistakes. Even me. “He who never made a mistake never
made a discovery,”’ he added. ‘Samuel Smiles, Self Help. Now let’s go and have a drink, even if we can’t really afford it, and have a look at our other options. Just in case the bank doesn’t come good.’
‘What a shit,’ said Melanie cheerfully. She tossed The Times at Octavia. A large photograph of Terence and Caroline Conran was on the front page, above a report on the 10 pounds
million divorce settlement he had been ordered to pay.
‘Can you believe it? He actually said, “She cooked a few
meals now and again.” That’s how he summed up their
marriage, her contribution to it. Arrogant so-and-so.’
Octavia wondered how Tom would sum up her
contribution to their marriage. Maybe, ‘She came to a few
client dinners now and again.’ And how she would sum up
his? ‘He paid a few bills now and again’? She sighed.
‘Sighing not allowed,’ said Melanie, grinning at her. ‘Not
in office hours. Or regrets.’
‘Sorry. It’s just so sad. We had such a lot going for us,
once. And things don’t go wrong for no reason, do they? I
mean, I must have done something wrong.’
‘Octavia! Of course you didn’t. You married an ace shit.’
Octavia’s phone rang.
‘Octavia Fleming.’
‘Mrs Fleming! I didn’t expect to get straight through.
This is Gabriel Bingham here.’
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘Oh, hallo, Mr Bingham.’
‘I just wondered how the little local difficulty might have
been working out for you. And to see if you might be at
your charming cottage this weekend.’
‘It’s not working out too well,’ said Octavia, briskly.
‘And I don’t know about the weekend yet. And I didn’t
know you were familiar with our cottage.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Well then, I don’t quite see how you can describe it as
charming.’
‘Oh, but of course it must be. All weekend cottages are.
Otherwise what would be the point? Anyway, I have some
stuff on the Battles Wood project that might interest you. I
could send it there, or even drop it over, if you like, or I
could send it to your other residence. Which I’m sure is charming too.’
‘I’ll have to get back to you,’ said Octavia, carefully
putting some frost into her voice. Gabriel Bingham clearly
became over-confident very easily.
‘Fine. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Goodbye, Mrs
Fleming.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Bingham.’
In spite of everything, as she put the phone down she
smiled. It was soothing, in the middle of her hurt and
confusion, to know that someone found her if not actually
attractive, then at least interesting enough to pursue.
However irritating and over-confident they might be.
‘Romilly! What a lovely surprise. What are you doing
here?’ said Ritz.
‘This is where I go to school. Just over there, look.’
‘I had no idea there was a school here. I thought it was
just doctors in Harley Street. Well, I mustn’t keep you.
You’re with your friends, I expect.’
‘No, it’s cool. We were just walking down to the Tube.
That was a great night on Wednesday. I enjoyed it so
much.’ Romilly smiled at her. The Smile. The literally
almost-million-dollar smile.
‘Me too. So how are you feeling about it all now?’
‘Oh, trying to come down to earth. You know. It was
wonderful, but I can’t see anyone actually wanting to book
me, photograph me or anything. Not for a while, anyway.
What with the braces and being so skinny and everything. I
mean I know models have to be thin, but, well…’
‘Romilly,’ said Ritz, and she sounded genuinely shocked,
‘hasn’t your mother said anything to you about the contract
with Christie’s?’
‘So where is your husband this evening?’ said Felix.
‘Out with clients. As usual.’ Octavia smiled at him: a
bright, careful smile. He was going to have to know, sooner
or later. And probably sooner; living under the same roof as Tom was clearly going to be intolerable. She could scarcely bear to look at him, never mind sit at the same table, share a
conversation. It was odd, how the lancing of the boil had
released such vicious poisons; she felt far more fiercely
hostile to him now than at any time since she had made her
discovery. She wanted to hit him, kick him, wanted to
scrape her nails across his face, that hideously perfect,
sculpted face, wanted to punch him in the balls.
The twins had not yet picked up on the hostility; during
the week she and Tom were seldom together with them, so
it had been easy. But now, with a weekend ahead,
something had to be done; she had suggested Tom went to
the cottage, but he said no, he had to be available to Aubrey
all weekend, suggested she went there instead. She would
have liked that, but it was Camilla Bartlett’s party on the
Saturday, and Poppy clearly could not miss that, and
Gideon had a cricket match and coaching, which was
crucial; and so they would both be in London, in the
emotionally foul-aired prison that the house had become,
and they must get through the weekend somehow. It
would be no time, with the children watching them,
listening to them, to discuss such things as who would do
what and when, who would live where, who would pay for
what, all the ugly, immediate essentials of the ending of a
marriage. They had earmarked Monday morning for that,
with the children safely at school, and Caroline and Minty