Facing the Light (13 page)

Here we are, she thought. Leonora, at the top of the table, every inch the heroine in pale blue, had Sean on her right and Efe on her left. Rilla wondered why it wasn't Alex sitting beside his grandmother as he normally did, but supposed that perhaps Leonora had her reasons. Efe looked divine as usual. Those eyes were quite mesmerizing and he wore his clothes so well. He was born out of his time. In the twenties, he'd have been a matinée idol for sure. Fiona didn't take her eyes from his face and it would have been funny if it wasn't so sad to see the way she always deferred to him, even to the point of only eating what he ate. She sat almost, but not quite, opposite her husband, the perfect ingénue. Pretty, in buttercup
yellow, but not a face you'd want to dwell on for very long. Darling Beth next to Efe, not saying much. Not eating much either, as far as Rilla could see. She'd left almost all her pudding. Could she be ill? She had dark rings under her eyes. Tomorrow, first thing, we'll have a proper talk, Rilla thought. We haven't had a heart-to-heart for ages. She sighed. Beth was so striking. Why on earth did she practically erase herself in public? She was wearing a white shirt and black trousers and might just as well have picked up some plates and taken over as a waitress! And if she was wearing make-up, Rilla couldn't see it.

Rilla smiled at Alex, who was making patterns in the sugar bowl with his coffee-spoon. He didn't fit in this family. He was tall and shambling, and had made some effort to dress up by swapping his khaki shirt for a navy-blue one, which was either fashionably creased linen, or unfashionably creased cotton. Rilla would have put money on the latter. Alex was the least vain person in the world and yet, more than anyone she knew, aware of the look of things.

Rilla noticed Sean looking at her. Could her mother have said something about her chocolate consumption? He smiled at her. He wasn't a bit smooth, which was what she'd feared when the dreaded words ‘TV director' were spoken. He was a craggy sort of man, with a lot of dark, grey-streaked hair and a very nice nose. Not a lot of people had nice noses in Rilla's opinion, so you paid attention when you came across one. Gwen was talking to Leonora, so she risked it, and put her hand out for one more chocolate.

Chloë and Philip sat together near James's end of the table. Philip was small and red-haired and gentle, and seemed to get on with Chloë, whom a lot of people found difficult. He also listened to her, which must have been part of the attraction. He was, Rilla thought, one of the quietest and most self-effacing people she'd ever met and
made Alex seem positively garrulous. Rilla noticed that Gwen, in her beige silk blouse, had to stop herself from wincing when she glanced down the table at her daughter. How strange we are, thought Rilla. Gwen should have adored Fiona, who was exactly the sort of person she'd have wanted as a daughter, but, oddly, she didn't. Of course, no one in the whole world would ever be good enough for Efe, so maybe that was it.

Efe tapped his wine glass with a fork. Silence fell in the room.

‘Thanks, everyone,' he said. ‘I don't mean to stop the chatting or anything, but there is something I want to say. If you don't mind.'

A murmur went round the table. Much later, when she was staring at the ceiling and trying to sleep, Rilla thought back to that second, when everyone thought that Efe was about to make a toast to Leonora, or say how lovely the food had been. When everything had been untroubled.

‘There's something I have to tell all of you,' he continued, when everyone was quiet. ‘But mainly, of course, Leonora. And ask you, too, really. I wouldn't normally bring up matters like this at a party. Celebrations should be celebrations, I've always said, only time is important here and I'm afraid we don't have too much of it.' He paused. ‘It's about the Collection, Leonora,' he continued, looking directly at his grandmother. He spoke very softly, very gently. ‘I know what it means to you. It means a lot to all of us, but mostly to you, I know that. They're your pictures, in every way. But the thing is, they're not being seen at their best. The way they're hung isn't ideal – you've often said so yourself – and so many people out there would like to see them, to understand them better, and they can't. Now, I know you've turned down all sorts of offers before, but I have been in touch with Reuben Stronsky.'

No one said a word. They sat quite still, as though a spell had been cast, freezing them in their chairs. Rilla knew Stronsky was a millionaire financier from the States with a great interest in the arts. Efe went on. ‘Stronsky is offering to buy the Collection and build a museum especially to house it. It goes without saying that he is offering a very large amount of money indeed.'

He picked up his wine glass and drank from it. ‘That's it. We can talk through all the details tomorrow, but that's what I want you to consider, Leonora darling.'

No one spoke. Rilla looked at her mother, who had gone as white as a sheet and hadn't moved. Oh, please God, don't let her have a stroke, or heart attack or anything. Not now. Not just before her party! Leonora stood up and with both her hands resting on the table, she smiled at everyone, and particularly at Efe.

‘Well now,' she said quietly. ‘You've given us something to think about, Efe, have you not? It's been a wonderful day, and I don't intend to spoil it now. We'll speak further about this matter as you say, but I should warn you that my father's paintings leave Willow Court over my dead body.' She smiled. ‘I'm very tired now, so you'll forgive me, I'm sure, if I retire to my bedroom. I wish you all a very good night.'

She turned, and left the room, and as always, every eye followed her as she went. The silence in the dining room swelled and grew, as one by one, everyone stood up from the table and melted away. Some of them would go to their bedrooms, others would probably slope off to the pub in the village. Rilla sighed. That's it, she thought. No more peaceful family party from now on. And no quiet after-dinner coffee and liqueurs in the drawing room, either. A well-known dramatic trick, she thought. The surprise just before the first-act curtain. Who needed it? She walked into the hall, dreading another early night. Bloody Efe! Couldn't he have waited one more day?
Hours and hours stretched before her, dark time, in which she would try to sleep and fail. Should she phone Ivan and see how he was getting on? She didn't really feel up to speaking to him. No, damn it, she thought. I'll leave it. And I won't go up to my bedroom and vegetate either. I'll make myself a coffee, even if it will only be instant decaf.

*

Gwen was in the kitchen bending over the sink and Rilla could see, just from a single glance at her back, that she was making a superhuman effort not to cry. There was no sign of Mary.

‘Gwen,' she said, going over to her sister. ‘What is it? What's the matter?'

‘Oh, Rilla, honestly! As if you need to ask.' Gwen turned round to look at her, eyes full of unshed tears. ‘I could cheerfully strangle him. Efe, I mean. How could he? After everything …' Her voice faded away. ‘I told Mary I'd wash up. I'll go mad if I don't do something.'

Rilla spooned some coffee into a mug and switched the kettle on.

‘I'm sure it'll be all right,' she said. ‘We'll all talk to Mother tomorrow. Persuade her that this whole thing with the paintings is nothing we can't discuss next week.'

‘But that's the whole point!' Gwen wiped her hands on a tea-towel and sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Efe insists that it's all got to be done now. God knows why. Something to do with cash flow in his firm. And all the work that I've put in for this weekend will just be wasted if everyone's squabbling and people are closeted in corners and Mother's sulking. You know how she can put a cloud over everything when she's not happy. Or maybe you've forgotten, as you're always in London.'

Rilla decided not to rise to this taunt. Gwen, she noticed, looked tired and had more grey hairs than Rilla
remembered. She was twisting her wedding ring round and round.

‘Sorry, Rilla, sorry. I'm feeling ratty. You cannot believe how much work I've put in, organizing everything and getting rooms ready and seeing to the flowers and the caterers and the invitations and even working out the place settings for each table in the marquee, and now Efe's little bombshell just crashes on to the table and threatens it all.'

She sniffed. Rilla could practically hear the phrase ‘it's not fair' hanging in the air. She said, ‘It'll be fine. There's going to be the filming to take Mother's mind off things. And she's always got on so well with Efe. They'll have a chat tomorrow and she'll just put him straight. I think it's much more likely that Efe is going to be the one left sulking, because he hasn't got his way. Mother never does anything she doesn't want. And she's longing for this party, you know she is. She won't let anything spoil it, I'm quite sure.'

‘Maybe you're right. I hope you are. And Efe in a sulk won't be much fun either, but I suppose he'll behave himself. I'll speak to him in the morning. God, I'm exhausted, Rilla. I haven't slept properly for days. I just lie in bed and go over lists of things in my mind.'

‘Everything will be fine, Gwen. You're so organized and efficient. And of course if there's anything I can do to help you, just say. You ought to be able to relax a bit and enjoy the weekend, too, you know. Have a brandy or something. Have a cigarette. I've got one here.'

Gwen looked yearningly at the small, sequin-encrusted drawstring bag lying on the table next to Rilla's mug.

‘No, no, I mustn't. It's nearly ten years since I gave up. Can you believe it? I'm not going to wreck all that just for a whim.'

‘Well, I need one. Have you got an ashtray?'

‘You can't smoke here,' Gwen said. ‘Mother would
have a fit. She's got a kind of X-ray nose when it comes to cigarettes.'

Rilla sighed. ‘Okay, okay, I'll go and sit on the terrace. It's a lovely night and I could do with a bit of peace and quiet. You get a good night's sleep, Gwen. Everything will look better tomorrow morning. I've got experience of such things and I can tell you that everything really and truly does look brighter by daylight.'

Gwen squeezed Rilla's arm on her way out of the kitchen, and smiled.

‘I'm really glad you're here, Rilla,' she said. ‘Sleep well.'

Rilla stared after her, pleased and moved by her sister's unaccustomed gesture of affection. She picked up her handbag and made her way out of the kitchen.

Between the conservatory and the dining room there was an alcove, a little like an outdoor room, with three walls and no roof. Rilla sat down on a bench which stood against the side of the house. The black silhouette of the marquee, down on the lawn, looked like an illustration from a fairy tale against the midnight blue of sky. To her left, dark windows glimmered in the light of a moon which kept appearing and disappearing behind clouds drifting slowly across the sky. There was a trellis to her right, nailed to the dining room wall, and the roses growing all over it were almost fragrant enough to mask the smell of her cigarette smoke. The particular varieties growing here were called
Mrs Herbert Stevens
and
Long John Silver
. Leonora knew both the popular and the botanical names of every single flower and plant at Willow Court, and so did Gwen, but Rilla could only remember the roses, some of whose titles reminded her of fine French ladies strolling through formal gardens in whispery long skirts. The flowers winding into the wood of the trellis were white with pale pink hearts, and they
glowed in the strange summer darkness that wasn't really dark at all.

A noise on the path, someone walking along the terrace, made her catch her breath. Damn and blast! Even in a good mood, Rilla wouldn't have welcomed company at this precise moment. She wanted to think, to unravel the implications of Efe's announcement at dinner, and the effects it might have on all of them over the next couple of days, to say nothing of the long-term consequences, and lo and behold, someone had taken it into their heads to come out here as well. Probably Chloë or Philip or one of the other younger members of the family thinking to have a quiet joint. That'll test the air-freshening quality of
Mrs Herbert Stevens
all right, Rilla thought, and smiled.

‘Oh,' she said as she caught sight of Sean. ‘I thought it might be one of the kids.' She shook her head, ruefully. ‘I must stop calling them that. They're all grown-up now, and Beth really hates it when I say “kids”. But that's how I think of them. It's very hard to break bad habits, don't you think?'

I'm babbling, she thought. She put her cigarette to her lips, and sucked so hard that the tip glowed brightly. She exhaled slowly and said, ‘Do sit down, Sean. I didn't mean to blast you with conversation. I expect you came out here for a bit of peace and quiet too, didn't you?'

‘No, really, it's okay,' he said, and sat down beside her. He turned to look at her. ‘I came to find you, actually. Everyone else seems to have disappeared.' He laughed. ‘No, that hasn't come out quite as I intended. I didn't mean that I wanted to talk to anyone else. I was just stating a fact. I came to find you.'

‘Really? Why?' (Oh, my God, is that too direct? Why the hell, Rilla thought, can't I
think
before I blurt out exactly what's going through my mind?)

Sean was looking, she noticed, straight ahead and not
at her. Had she embarrassed him? She was just about to speak again when he said, ‘I think I'd like to get to know you better.' He laughed. ‘God, doesn't that sound awful? Like something from a magazine. Only what I said before is true. I am an admirer. I really did love you in
Night Creatures
.'

‘Thank you,' Rilla said. He didn't have to say that.
I really did love you
. She was very gratified all the same. She stubbed her cigarette out under her shoe, then picked the stub up and pushed it into the earth around the roses.