Folly's Child (41 page)

When Sally arrived she, Paula and the children motored down to Shinnecock Bay. Hugo had offered to take a day off to go with them and see them settled but when he suggested it to Sally after meeting her at Kennedy Airport she told him there was absolutely no need.

‘Your time is much too precious, Hugo. We shall be perfectly all right', she assured him.

‘But Paula is not at all herself,' he said. ‘I'm worried about her, Sally. That's why I persuaded her not to come with me to meet you – I wanted a chance to speak to you alone. She gets these very peculiar moods when she refuses to communicate. You'll see for yourself, of course, but I wanted to warn you. Buster Hertz, our doctor, seems to think it's just some kind of delayed reaction to Harriet's birth, but surely she should be getting over that by now?'

Sally, who had fought her own way through moments of black depression after Mark had been born and she was struggling to establish some kind of life for them alone, looked thoughtful.

‘I'd have thought so – but who knows? I'm sure a month of total relaxation and sisterly chat will do her the world of good. Don't worry, Hugo, I'll look after her.'

Hugo nodded, glad to be able to share his concern. Sally was, after all, Paula's sister. He glanced at her, sitting beside him in the stretch limo and liked what he saw. Two years ago in London he had been too obsessed with Paula to notice her much but he remembered her as being very young and gauche, a little like an overgrown puppy. Now she was older and thinner, with a few little worry lines on her face and a new found self-sufficiency that was very attractive. In her simple pink linen dress she looked cool and unruffled in spite of the long flight and he felt sure she was quite capable of coping with Paula. It was a comforting thought.

Paula was almost as delighted to see Sally as she had been to see Gary. Somehow Sally always made her feel good – perhaps because she had always been there to witness Paula's moments of triumph – and Paula with an audience was a happy Paula. The two girls embraced, then Sally rescued Mark, who was hanging back shyly behind her legs.

‘This is your nephew – Mark, say hello to your Auntie Paula.'

‘Lo,' Mark said obediently.

He was a chunky little fellow with bright curls and a face almost too pretty for a boy. Later, perhaps, his hair would grow straighter and darker, and the baby roundness disappear from his cheeks, for the moment he looked for all the world like a Botticelli cherub standing there in his pale blue shorts and stripey jersey, white ankle socks and sensible buttoned sandals.

‘Oh Sally, he's so big!' Paula gasped. ‘It makes me realise just how long it's been. Why haven't you been to visit us before?'

Sally smiled ruefully. So far she hadn't seen much evidence of change in Paula. She was still exactly the same as she had always been – totally self-centred.

‘I haven't had much money to spare for trans-Atlantic flights. I know this is probably difficult for you to believe, living in the lap of luxury, but actually I've had quite a struggle to make ends meet.'

‘Well why didn't you say so?' Paula looked amazed. ‘I'd have sent you the money.'

‘I'm not in the business of begging,' Sally said tardy. ‘In any case – you could have come to London. Planes do fly in both directions, you know, and Mum and Dad would have been so pleased to see you as well.'

Paula's eyes shadowed and for a moment the darkness was there, just out of sight. Then she smiled again.

‘There just doesn't seem to have been a moment – time has flown! What with work, and then Harriet, and … oh, you have no idea of the pace of life out here, Sally. Hectic!'

‘Where is Harriet?' Sally asked.

‘In the nursery. Shall we go up and see her?'

The nursery! This is a whole different world, Sally thought, amused, thinking of her own cramped flat in London, with Mark's little bed squashed into a corner opposite her own and of the baby minder she had to take him to each day to enable her to go to work.

‘I suppose you have a nanny, too,' she said wryly.

‘Well of course!' Paula was leading the way up the broad staircase. Sally paused to scoop up Mark, whose chubby legs were buckling with the effort, tired as he was after the long journey.

In the nursery Harriet was having her tea, sitting at her own little table. She looked up, wide-eyed, as they all trooped in. Jam had spread across her mouth and cheek. She looked cute and adorable.

‘Paula, she is beautiful!' Sally said, setting Mark down.

Instantly the little boy seemed to forget his tiredness. He trotted straight over to Harriet, gazing longing at the fingers of bread and butter. Harriet's small jammy mouth curved into a smile and she thrust the piece she was holding towards him. He took it, cramming it into his mouth. The instant rapport between them was obvious. Sally and Paula both burst out laughing and Hugo, watching from the doorway, smiled in relief.

His idea had been a good one. Sally and Mark would be good for Paula and Harriet. Perhaps everything would be all right after all.

Paula wriggled her bare toes in the warm sand, watching it trickle over her scarlet-painted toenails. At the edge of the beach the sun sparkled on blue sea; just beyond the reach of the breakers Mark and Harriet sat digging happily and beside her Hugo was dozing, oblivious to the fact that his back was turning dark red from sunburn.

It was their first weekend at Shinnecock Bay. Hugo had packed up early at the showroom, leaving Laddie in charge, and motored down to join them. But the hard work he had put in all week to enable him to leave early on Friday was catching up with him somewhat. Paula stretched lazily and turned her attention to her sister, who was watching the children intently.

A week's sunshine had turned Sally's skin pale gold and bleached her hair to a tawny mane. As a precaution she had slipped a shirt on over her bikini but her curves were still obvious – more curves than I will ever have, Paula observed wryly – and her legs, with the slight sheen of Ambre Solaire, were long and shapely.

I shall have to watch out, Paula thought, with a faint stirring of jealousy. The ugly duckling has turned into a swan. And she is younger than I am.

The thought was enough to make her pull her floppy sun hat lower over her face. Too much sunshine was ageing – everyone knew that. And lately the spectre of ageing had hung over Paula like a persistent storm cloud. It had first appeared when she was swollen and ugly with pregnancy and she had felt vulnerable as she realised how transitory beauty could be. She had regained her figure now – diet, massage and a strong exercise regime had soon tightened flabby muscles and loose skin, but the stretch marks had remained, though faded now to little silvery flecks, a constant reminder of the grossness she had been forced to endure. Then she had begun to notice the tiny lines that had begun to appear between nose and mouth and at the corners of her eyes. Almost imperceptible to anyone else, perhaps, but clear enough in her magnifying mirror – the first signs of ageing. Peering at them Paula had felt a great well of panic opening up inside her. The rot had begun to set in. From now on it would be an endless battle, one that she would ultimately lose. No woman likes the thought of losing her looks, of catching a glimpse unprepared in a mirror one day and thinking: ‘That middle aged woman can't be me!' But to Paula the prospect was purgatory. Usually she managed to allay the chill fear by telling herself she still had years and years of youth left; today, looking at Sally, it stalked her from the depths of her subconscious and she felt a sharp dislike for her sister. It was almost as if Sally's new found beauty detracted in some way from her own, as if Sally had stolen something that was rightfully hers.

Her mouth hardened and her mind turned in on itself, searching for the one weapon that would punish and hurt and deflate.

‘I'm surprised you haven't found yourself a husband by now,' she said silkily. ‘Isn't there anyone even remotely interested whom you could persuade to marry you and make Mark legit?'

‘I'd have written and told you if there was.' Sally turned over, reaching for the Ambre Solaire. ‘And I don't have time for husband-hunting even if I wanted to, which I don't.'

‘But you must have a man of your own,' Paula insisted, feigning sisterly concern.

‘What for? I've had enough of men to last me a very long time. Anyway, who would want to take me on with a child to support? It's quite an undertaking. Stuart didn't want to – and Mark was his son. So what chance have I with anyone else?'

‘That's true,' Paula said solicitously. She was feeling better with every passing moment. ‘But there must be
someone
. An elderly widower, perhaps, with children of his own. Or a lonely divorcee, pining for family life. Perhaps you should join a singles club, or even sign on with a marriage bureau …'

Thanks, Paula, but I'm quite all right as I am.'

‘I can't believe that, darling. Oh, I wish I could think of someone. Then you'd be able to stay out here and we could spend lots of time together, just like in the old days. And every summer we could come down here for a couple of months. Did I tell you, Hugo says he is thinking of buying a place on the coast for us? He does spoil me so.' She paused to allow the comparison to sink in, then continued: ‘The trouble is everyone I can think of is already attached, one way or another.' Except Greg, she added mentally, but I'm certain not pointing
him
in your direction.

‘Can't we drop it?' Sally said. ‘Look, Mark is having terrible trouble. He's trying to build a sandcastle and Harriet keeps knocking it down again. I'm going to help him.'

She stoppered the bottle of sun oil and pulled herself up. The movement disturbed Hugo; he shifted slightly, lifting his head and treating Sally to a lazy wink.

A flush that had nothing to do with the sun crept up her cheeks. She'd thought he was asleep. How much of the conversation had he overheard? Not that they had really said anything but it was embarrassing all the same.

She walked down the beach to the children recalling what Paula had said and her own vehement denial that she needed a man. Now if it was
Hugo
on offer then it would be a different matter, she thought wryly. There really was something rather gorgeous about him.… But Hugo belonged to Paula. It was not Sally's way to steal other people's husbands, especially her sister's, even if she could – which she doubted.

Near the breakers Harriet was waving her spade threateningly above Mark's latest effort.

‘Castle – gone!' she shouted triumphantly, suiting actions to words with a hearty thwack of her spade.

‘Harriet!' Mark admonished, but he did not seem too upset.

Let's hope he can take the destruction of his private castles with such fortitude when he's grown up, Sally thought. Goodness knows, if life hands him only the knocks determined by the lowest common denominator he'll need to be able to!

Paula had long since given up scouring the newspapers for Zachery Rhodes' exposé of the scandal she had whispered to him, She was disappointed that her attempt at revenge had come to nothing and puzzled by the non-appearance of the story but she assumed Zachary must have his reasons. Perhaps he had not believed her, or had checked the story out and not found anything substantial enough to take into print – a little surprising in view of the fact that she was sure the affair was still going on, albeit very discreetly. Or perhaps Zachary was a supporter of the senator and did not want to cause him embarrassment – a fairly unlikely explanation since reporters of Zachery's ilk were totally without scruples and made their living at the expense of those people in the public eye who had skeletons rattling in their cupboards. No, Paula could not imagine either Zachary or his editor had kept the story quiet out of squeamishness – though they might have been influenced by the threat of a lawsuit which might cost them thousands of dollars. But whatever the reason the story had not appeared and Paula, who did not bother with newspapers at all down here in Shinnecock Bay, had almost forgotten about it.

One Friday afternoon, returning from the beach, she was greeted by the maid with a message – Hugo had telephoned and wanted her to call him back urgently. Paula was surprised but not unduly concerned. Hugo had been planning to join them for the weekend; perhaps something had happened to delay him. As she sat waiting for the call to connect she was relaxed and happy, more relaxed and happy than she had been for months.

I believe this holiday has done me good, she thought. I've hardly thought of Greg at all and there has been no one to whisper about me. I shall have to make sure Hugo keeps his promise to get us a summer place down here on Long Island.

‘Paula – honey?' Hugo's voice was on the line but the moment she heard it she knew something was dreadfully wrong.

‘Hugo – what is it?' she asked, her nerves overreacting as they always did these days to make her skin prickle uncomfortably.

‘Honey – I'm sorry but I'm not going to be able to join you as planned. All hell has broken loose here.'

‘All hell? What do you mean?'

‘I don't suppose you've seen a newspaper today?' he said – and the tingling beneath her skin grew stronger so that it was as if electric currents were passing through her.

‘A newspaper? No. Why? What's in it? But already she knew.

‘It's Laddie,' Hugo said heavily. ‘Some son of a bitch reporter has done a filthy exposé on him. How they got on to it I haven't a clue and why anyone should be interested in such trash is an even bigger mystery to me but there it is. Whatever the reason they've done it.'

‘Oh dear – I suppose Laddie is upset,' Paula said feigning sympathy though she was secretly elated.

‘Well of course he is – what would you expect?' Hugo said tersely. ‘But there's worse. The boy Laddie has been involved with is Jimmy Connelly's son –
Senator
Jimmy Connelly. You can imagine the scandal – and the fuss Connelly would kick up. As far as the press and the public is concerned he's Mr Nice Guy – and he plays hell with all those closest to him to make sure that image is maintained.'