Almost a Crime (50 page)

I try to comfort you, you move away from me, I tell you

you’re sexy, you leap up, start plumping cushions, or

offering me a nice cup of tea—’

‘Gabriel, please.’

‘Oh, go to bed,’ he said wearily. ‘I feel quite sober now,

I think I’ll chance the roads.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

‘Why ridiculous?’

‘Well, think what it would do to your career. If you got

caught.’

‘Oh,’ he said, and his expression was-‘colder still, ‘do you

know, just for a moment then I thought you were going to

tell me there was something else I was being ridiculous

about. Idiotic of me. Good night, Octavia.’

She followed him slowly, watched him go into the spare

room, shut the door, stood outside feeling utterly wretched.

She hesitated, struggling with her pride; lacking the self

confidence, even then, to knock, to go in. She walked back

into her own room, closed the door, close to tears of

absolute despair. About herself, about Tom, about Gabriel;

that she should have come to this, to such absolute failure to

be, to do, what she wanted.

The moonlight falling on to the bed showed her Gideon

occupying the whole of it now, sprawled across it. If she tried to move him, he might wake. She sighed; there was only the sofa left. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to sleep

now, she might as well lie down there and read.

She went out again, walked back towards the stairs. As

she reached the spare room, Gabriel came out, fully dressed.

He looked at her, clearly startled, stood quite still for a

moment, his eyes moving over her; Octavia, caught in the

same stillness, looked back at him, afraid almost to breathe.

Then he grinned, a huge, joyful grin.

‘What kept you?’ he said.

What she experienced with him that night was different

from anything she had known before: an amalgam of so

many things, of release from tension, relief from the anxiety

of the day, the restoration of her self-esteem; of emotional

delight that he should want her, and of physical delight at

her response to him. She lay with him, awkward at first,

nervous even in the face of his desire, then relieved at her

ability to respond to it, at the hunger opening up obediently

in her, dark, soft, fluid. He was patient, tender with her,

waiting for her, and then suddenly, before she had thought

she was ready, it was there, the bright, piercing brilliance,

breaking, shattering, reaching far though her, through not

only her body, but her head, filling it with images, strong,

strange, powerful patterns, and then finally her heart, filling

it with peace.

And then she lay, looking at him, half crying, half

laughing, her body damp with sweat, trembling, weakened

by him, weakened and released.

‘Your husband must be quite mad,’ was all he said.

‘So exactly where were you last night?’

The voice was dark, heavy with anger. It annoyed her,

that anger: it annoyed her a lot.

‘I was out,’ said Marianne, ‘at the opera House.’

‘At midnight?’

‘No, then I was out to dinner.’

‘On your own?’

‘No, with a friend. Look, Felix, I’m sorry, but I’m very busy. I really haven’t got time for this kind of interrogation.

I’ve got a houseful here.’

‘I was worried about you,’ he said abruptly. ‘Usually you

tell me what you’re doing.’

It was, for him, close to an apology. Remorse filled her

suddenly; remorse and guilt. She shouldn’t have gone out

with Nico. Not for reasons that were little more than pique.

Felix, in his tough, difficult way, loved her, she knew; and

she loved him. Didn’t she? And they were both too old for

playing games.

‘I’m sorry, Felix,’ she said, ‘very sorry. Maybe this

evening we could—’

‘I don’t think so,’ he said, ‘not this evening. I’ve got a

very full day.’

‘Well, perhaps—’

‘Marianne, I really can’t talk now. I’m seeing Tom in

fifteen minutes. I’ll try and phone you tomorrow.’

‘Are you seeing Tom about his business?’

‘I imagine so.’

‘Well, there’s something I think you should—’

‘I’m sorry, Marianne, I have to go. I hope your day isn’t

too stressful.’

And the phone went dead. She sat looking at it,

wondering if she should brave his wrath and try again. Tell

him what Nico had said about Tom. She decided not to.

There was no point while he was in this mood.

‘So exactly where were you last night? I tried to phone

you.’

‘I was here, Louise, still at the cottage. Gideon had an

accident. He cut his foot. Terribly badly. We spent the

evening at Bath General.’

‘Oh, no! Boot, how awful, is he all right?’

‘Yes and no. Eight stitches, very painful. He’s quite

shocked too.’

‘I’m so sorry. And you had to cope all on your own as

well.’

‘Not really. Gabriel came with me, he was wonderful.’

‘Gabriel! He’s very sexy, Octavia, I could fancy him

myself’

‘Well, hands off,’ said Octavia without thinking. ‘He’s

mine.’

‘Boot, as if I’d steal a man of yours. Anyway, he’s

obviously mad about you.’

‘Mum! My foot hurts.’

‘Coming, Gideon. Did you really think he likes me?

Gabriel, I mean.’

‘Well, of course. Blatantly obvious. And just what you

need.’

‘Yes,’ said Octavia, smiling foolishly into the phone,

thinking how precisely and perfectly Gabriel was what she

needed. ‘Yes, he is. Just what I need. But—’

‘Mum! Mum! Can you come? My foot’s hurting so

much.’

‘Lulu, I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll ring you back. I do want to talk to you. About — something. Well, about everything, really.’

‘Okay. Fine. I’ll be here.’

Felix sat looking at Tom. He tended to forget, unless they

were alone together, the full intensity of his dislike for him.

‘How is Octavia?’ he said abruptly, as his secretary brought

in the coffee. ‘Get away this weekend, did you?’

‘Octavia did. I was working. Unfortunately, Gideon had

an accident.’

‘An accident? What sort of an accident?’

‘Nothing serious. He cut his foot. Had to have it stitched.

But he’s fine apparently.’

‘What do you mean, apparently? Haven’t you seen him?’

‘Well, no. It was down there, down in Somerset.’

‘And Octavia had to deal with it all on her own? With

the baby there as well? Or was the Canny there?’

‘No, a friend of hers was with her. Anyway, she is—’ He

hesitated.

Felix waited. Now what was he going to say? Something

self-justifying, no doubt.

‘She is very good on these occasions.’

‘She has to be, I suppose. Is he in hospital?’

‘No, no, it was all dealt with in Casualty.’

‘What a dreadful thing for them all. And today? You’re

not going down today?’

‘Felix, it isn’t necessary. I’m desperately busy, and—’

‘Perhaps I should go down and help her, then,’ said

Felix. ‘She can’t cope with three children, one of them

injured, all on her own.’

‘I suggested the nanny went down. She said she didn’t

want her. She said they were fine.’

‘I’ll ring her anyway. Make sure there’s nothing I can do.

Just wait a moment, will you, while I do that. I wish you’d

told me last night.’

‘Felix, it was after midnight.’

‘And do you think I’d have cared? In the very least?’

Rage filled him; this man seemed to have no idea of the

nature of love. He would most gladly have driven down to Somerset at three in the morning, if Octavia had told him

she needed him. If only she had …

‘Octavia? Darling, it’s Daddy. I’ve got Tom here, he’s

just told me about Gideon. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry, how is

he? Is he? Send him my love. Brave little chap. Look, Tom

tells me he’s too busy to come down, would you like me

to? I’m more than happy to, I hate to think of you coping

all on your own down there. What? Well, darling, think

about it. I could be with you in a couple of hours. Just

promise me to let me know if you change your mind, will

you? Any time, doesn’t matter if it’s late. Tom said he

didn’t know until after midnight — I would have come

immediately if I’d known. Goodbye, my darling. See you

very soon.’

He put the phone down.

‘She’s amazing, how she copes with everything,’ he said.

‘She is indeed,’ said Tom. ‘I’m very lucky.’

‘You are. Very lucky. Now then, what did you want to

see me about?’

‘Zoe said Octavia’s friend Louise used to be a model.’

Romilly stood back, studying herself in the long mirror in

her mother’s bedroom. ‘Do you think these trousers for this

casting thing, or my jeans?’

‘I think you should ask Ritz,’ said Marianne with a slight

effort.

Romilly smiled at her. ‘Good idea. I’ll phone her. What

was Louise’s name when she was modelling? I could tell

Ritz.’

‘It was Louise Madison. She was quite big in the States.’

‘I wonder if she misses it. Did she marry someone terribly

rich and successful?’

‘Not really,’ said Marianne, smiling, ‘but very nice. He’s

called Sandy. Sandy Trelawny.’

‘Trelawny. That’s a nice name.’

‘Yes. Yes, isn’t it? It’s Cornish, I sup—’

She stopped suddenly, staring at Romilly. She felt hot.

Hot and sick. Cornish … ‘Do you know anyone called

Cornish? … I never saw a man so shaken

‘Oh, my God,’ she said, and her voice was almost a

whisper. ‘Oh, dear God.’

‘He’s thinking about it,’ said Tom, ‘wants to see all the

figures and so on. I’m getting them over to him ASAP. I

honestly don’t know which way he’ll jump, Aubrey. I think

he’s torn three ways, between wanting to refuse me, and

making me suffer, not wanting to see his daughter dragged

down into the gutter, and wanting to get his hands on this

business. God, I really don’t know that bankruptcy

wouldn’t be the better course. If he does come in with us,

it’ll be hideous.’

‘We’ll cope,’ said Aubrey. ‘I think if you considered

bankruptcy and its implications carefully,-you’d retract that

statement.’

‘I’m not so sure. I’ve had to listen to at least thirty

minutes of shit already, about our extravagance, bad

management, lack of foresight - it’s a nightmare. I know it’s

only eleven thirty, but can I have a drop of that whisky? I

need it pretty badly. And I’ll tell you something else,’ he

added, raising his glass to Aubrey, ‘if Mr Miller moves in

here, we’ll be drinking mineral water. Or, more like it, tap

water. Cheers, Aubrey.’

‘Cheers,’ said Aubrey, ‘and well done. I can hardly begin

to imagine what that cost you.’

‘He hasn’t agreed yet.’

‘I suspect he will. Unless something goes really horribly

wrong …’

Marianne sat at her desk, staring alternately out of the

window and at the phone. She couldn’t ever remember

feeling so terrible. She kept seeing, again and again, the

image of Louise after the funeral, hitting Tom, with that

savage, pent-up energy. Sexual energy, she could see that

now. She heard Nico’s voice: ‘Can you think of anyone

who wishes him ill … a scorned woman perhaps, the likes

of whom hell hath no fury

It must be her. It must. But what was she to do? How

could she possibly ring Octavia, or even Tom, what could

she possibly say?

Of course she couldn’t. If Tom was having an affair, that

was his own business, his and Octavia’s. And disregarding

what was really rather slim circumstantial evidence, was it

really likely that Louise, lovely affectionate Louise, would

behave in such a way?

Maybe she should do nothing. That was the safest thing

and certainly the easiest: but was it honourable? She heard

Nico’s voice again — God, was it only yesterday? — saying

that people should be warned if they were in danger. ‘Not

to warn them is to duck moral responsibility.’

Marianne didn’t like that thought. She didn’t like the

thought that people she was fond of were suffering and

might suffer more, through her lack of moral responsibility.

Suddenly, swiftly, acting on a surge of courage, Marianne

dialled Tom’s office number.

‘They’re lovely,’ said the girl at Marie Claire, handing

Romilly back her pictures, ‘really nice. Great, you winning

that competition.’

‘Yes,’ said Romilly politely.

‘Have you got a composite yet?’

‘No, sorry. It’s not ready.’ Ritz had said they’d all ask

that, for the card with her pictures and measurements and

details of her agency on it. ‘It doesn’t make any difference

to whether they’ll book you or not, they just like to have

them for their files.’ But she felt miserable about not having

one; it looked inefficient.

‘Well, get them to send us one, will you? Okay,

Romilly, that’s fine. Thanks for coming in.’ She turned

back to her desk, clearly dismissing her.

Romilly managed to smile, to say thank you back. They

didn’t like her, didn’t want her. No one would, she should