Forever (13 page)

‘My mother nearly died of heart failure,' Eden said as she sat with Mae in one of their favourite haunts in the French Quarter. ‘Who would do such a hideous thing?'

Mae shook her head unhappily and toyed with her absinthe frappe. ‘Judge Clay has offered a reward of one hundred thousand dollars for information leading to the return of Beau's body,' she said, her eyes fixed on her drink.

‘If the voodooists have got him, there's no money in the world will buy him back,' Eden said frankly. ‘What does your grandmother think, Mae? Have you spoken with her?'

Mae shook her head vehemently. ‘No, and I don't want to talk about it, either.'

Eden lapsed into silence. She had lived in New Orleans for only three years but she had heard plenty of strange talk about Mae's grandmother, about the voodoo that was still practised secretly. Still, if Mae didn't want to talk about it, she had no intention of forcing her.

It was Mae who broke the silence, saying hesitantly, ‘Strange things
do
happen, Eden, though, don't they? Do you remember Midsummer's Eve? I know you laughed at me at the time, but I'm sure Gussie saw more in that mirror than she ever let on.'

‘Rubbish.' Eden's voice had a tight edge to it.

‘She's never been quite the same since.'

‘But that's because Beau died, not because of the ceremony.'

‘That's the point.' The blood had drained from Mae's rosy face. ‘Beau Clay died the night Gussie bound him to her forever.'

They stared at each other and then Mae began to cry. ‘I can't bear it, Eden. I'm sure something terrible is going to happen to Gussie. Just like it did to her grandmother.'

Eden's sleek brows met in a frown. ‘What happened to Gussie's grandmother?'

Mae sobbed and struggled from the table. ‘She went crazy and drowned herself. They said she was obsessed. Obsessed as Gussie is obsessed!' Before Eden could restrain her, Mae had pushed past startled customers and fled into the street.

Eden paid for the drinks and rose to her feet. Poor Gussie. A mother who died when she was born and a grandmother who had committed suicide. She wandered out into the strong sunlight. Down the street black musicians were playing exuberantly in the humid afternoon heat. The news of Beau's missing body would have hit Gussie hard. She opened the door of her Cadillac and started the engine. She was supposed to be seeing Dean at two o'clock but he wouldn't mind if she was late. She would call in at St Michel and see Gussie first.

Gussie was sitting on the porch swing, swinging listlessly. She showed no surprise, pleasure or disappointment at Eden's appearance.

‘Hi,' Eden said, and perched herself on a pile of cushions. ‘How's the happy bride?'

Gussie shrugged.

‘If you keep on losing weight so rapidly, your wedding dress will never fit.'

‘It's already been taken in twice.'

‘I'm not surprised. I'm going to look gigantic in comparison. I like my dress, though. That deep lavender blue is soft without being too wishy-washy …'

‘You were wrong.'

Eden stared at her.

‘You were wrong about Beau.' Her voice was flat and expressionless. ‘He does love me. He does want me. He watches me all the time. He's watching me now – there, down by the cherry trees.'

‘For Christ's sake!' Eden's face was aghast. ‘Have you told anyone else this? You need a doctor, Gussie. A shrink.'

A slight smile tinged Gussie's mouth as she continued swinging. ‘No, I don't. I'm not mad. I loved him and I wanted him and now he won't let me go.'

‘Does Bradley know?' Eden felt the words strangle in her throat. Of course Bradley didn't know. He would have done something about it if he had.

‘No. He wouldn't believe me even if I told him.'

‘Neither do I,' Eden said firmly. ‘You're letting Beau Clay obsess you. It's unhinging your mind, Gussie. You've got to stop it now: this minute.'

Gussie's eyes moved reluctantly from the distant cherry trees and rested unnervingly on Eden. ‘You thought it was my imagination, didn't you Eden? Do you think it is my imagination that Beau is no longer in his family's tomb?'

‘No, of course I don't. Whatever has happened to Beau's body is hideous, but not supernatural. Graves have been robbed before. I daresay if it wasn't for the fact that Beau was so well-known, we'd have hardly have heard about it.'

Gussie smiled a small, secret smile and Eden knew that she didn't believe her.

‘What about the wedding? Are you going ahead with it?'

‘Of course.' Gussie's voice was mildly surprised. ‘I love Bradley as well. It's just that I can't remember Bradley's face when he isn't with me. Not like I can Beau's. Beau's face is with me all the time.' Her eyes returned to the cherry trees. ‘But I can't marry Beau, can I? Not unless I die, and I don't want to die.'

Eden rose unsteadily to her feet, thoroughly frightened. ‘You're sick, Gussie. Beau Clay is dead. He doesn't love you: he never did.'

‘Then why won't he free me?' Gussie demanded, her eyes burning with sudden intensity.

‘I guess it's because you're always thinking of him,' Eden said awkwardly. ‘Once you're married to Bradley you'll forget all about Beau Clay.'

‘Yes.' The passion drained from her voice, leaving it as flat and expressionless as before. ‘Yes. Once I marry Bradley, then everything will be all right.'

They were sitting on the edge of the dunes, the ocean shimmering beneath the heat of the sun.

‘You
can't
have Jason Shreve as your best man,' Gussie said, laughing, her head resting against Bradley's shoulder. ‘Daddy is determined that this wedding is going to be the social occasion of the year.'

‘Jason Shreve is my closest friend,' Bradley said, relieved to see that the pallor of the last few weeks had fled, and that her eyes had regained their natural sparkle.

‘Maybe, but the Shreves are … well …' She giggled. ‘… just the Shreves, I guess. Daddy would want you to have someone more prestigious.'

‘Whose wedding is this?' Bradley asked, his hand slipping beneath her blouse and touching the warm softness of her flesh. ‘Ours, or your father's?'

‘Ours,' she said dreamily, allowing herself to be pushed gently back against the sand, her lips parting willingly as Bradley's sought hers. His weight pinioned her, his body heavy against her.

Her hand slid pleasurably across the strong muscles of his back and up into the thickness of his hair. The curls sprang against her palm and her fingers tightened.

‘I do love you, Bradley. You do believe me, don't you?'

There was a strange urgency in her voice. He raised his head and looked down at her: at her gentle, soft, sensuous mouth. At the tumbled, dishevelled mass of her wheat-gold hair. At her eyes, as velvet and dark as the heart of an exotic flower.

‘You'd better do, Augusta Lafayette,' he said fiercely, the heat naked at the back of his eyes. ‘Who else would you be in love with?'

Something indefinable crossed Augusta's face, to be instantly chased away. She loved Bradley. She was marrying Bradley. She was normal and sane and her marriage would prove it.

‘No one,' she sighed passionately, pulling his head down to hers, her tongue flicking past his, searching, giving, desire flaring up in her.

He responded passionately, but then, just as she thought that he had lost his self-control, he grasped her wrists, pinning them high above her head, and said hoarsely, ‘Not yet, Gussie. Not yet.'

She sobbed in anguish, and as he released her, clung to him in desperate need. If only Bradley would make love to her, then she could never belong to anyone else. Not ever.

‘One week,' Bradley said, pulling her gently to her feet, cradling her in his arms. ‘Then we'll be Mr and Mrs Hampton and honeymooning in Acapulco.'

‘A week is a long time,' she said as they began to walk along the creaming shoreline. ‘It seems like …' She stopped. ‘Forever' was a word she never uttered. Not to Bradley. Not since her birthday party. ‘It seems like a lifetime,' she said, suddenly cold despite the shimmering heat of the midday sun.

‘Gussie, you look absolutely breathtaking,' Eden said as she adjusted the gardenias in her hair and gazed in blatant admiration at her friend.

Tina Lafayette was busily smoothing the French lace that billowed from Gussie's waist over a mass of petticoats, while Mae languished happily on Gussie's bed, watching the goings on with vicarious pleasure, thoughts of Austin never far from her mind. Gussie's neckline was heartshaped, the sleeves long and mediaevally pointed over the backs of her hands. Her headdress was made of roses and seed-pearls and the shoulder-length veil was thrown back from her face, falling lightly over her gleaming, silken hair. She looked like a princess from a fairy tale.

‘Do you think a little more mascara?' Gussie asked Eden tentatively.

‘No. Brides are supposed to look pure and unadorned. Your make-up is just right.'

There was a hint of shadow on Gussie's lids, a soft pink gloss on her lips. Her nails were unpolished, buffed to a pearly sheen. There was twenty minutes to go before she became Mrs Bradley Hampton.

She moved to sit down on the bed and Eden and Tina rushed forward, smoothing her skirts behind her.

‘I think I'd like a drink of water, Cousin Tina,' she said, hands clasped lightly in her lap.

‘I had champagne at my first wedding,' Tina Lafayette said, pouring out a wineglass of iced Perrier water. ‘Both before and after the ceremony.' Her eyes danced wickedly. ‘At my second wedding I had gin and giggled when I made my vows. Conrad never forgave me. He spent my wedding night telling me I was a lush.'

Eden grinned. She liked Tina Lafayette and was tempted to ask what she had drunk at her third wedding. And her fourth. She restrained herself. Now was not the time and place to ask.

Gussie took the wineglass from Tina, her hands trembling so violently that droplets sprinkled her gown.

‘Good heavens, child! You'll mark the lace! Quick, Eden. Tissues.'

Hastily the droplets were blotted and Tina said, ‘My, you are in a state of nerves, aren't you? I've never seen a bride so edgy.'

‘I'm fine. Really I am.' Her voice was taut, belying her words.

‘I hope so, honey. This is going to be the biggest wedding New Orleans has seen.'

Eden stood a foot or two away from them and regarded Gussie with faint apprehension. For the past few weeks Gussie had returned to apparent normality. She had made no further reference to Beau Clay and though she had lost more weight and was even more subdued, Eden had ceased to worry. Now she was assailed by doubts. Gussie had shown a strange inability to cope in stressful or over-exciting situations: at her birthday party she had fainted before half the town. She had done so again at Laetitia Clay's funeral. Today she would be exposed to hundreds of eyes. The cathedral would be packed. Photographers would impede her way from limousine to cathedral door.

The knot of apprehension grew. If Gussie fainted, the occasion would be recorded by every Louisiana newspaper. The most important event of her life would be marred: her father would have to endure cruel gossip as to the bride's physical condition; Bradley would be distressed. Eden knew she should speak to Gussie but could not while Tina Lafayette and Mae remained with them.

Eden moved away and sat at the dressing table, applying blusher to her already perfect cheekbones. Her hand halted in mid-air. So Gussie had sat on Midsummer's Eve, her hair a golden cloud, her eyes glowing. Slowly she put the make-up brush down.
Had
Gussie believed she had seen Beau Clay through the mirror as she had sat so still while they whooped and cheered at her dramatic prank? She had never said so, but she had said things far more disturbing: that the ceremony had worked and that she had bound Beau Clay to her forever. If Mae had said the same thing, Eden would have laughed it off, but Gussie had been too adamant to have her statement so easily dismissed.

When Beau Clay's body had vanished from his tomb, Gussie had been near-deranged, believing that it was because he was searching for her: waiting for her. The nape of Eden's neck prickled. What was it Gussie had said? ‘I can't marry Beau, not unless I die, and I don't want to die.' What had she meant by such an extraordinary statement? More to the point, if she believed what she said, and Eden knew without a shadow of a doubt that she did, what effect would such belief have on her mental health?

‘Only another fifteen minutes, honey,' Tina Lafayette said gaily, fluffing her shoulder-length bob so that it would look devastating beneath her ridiculously tiny hat of rose petals. ‘I'll go down and check on your father. He's been pacing the main salon as if it were his wedding day, not yours.'

‘Oh – the bouquets,' Eden said quickly. ‘Do you think you could check on them, Mae?'

The doors closed behind them, the fragrance of
je Reviens
wafting in the draft.

‘O.K., Gussie?' Eden asked.

‘Yes.' Gussie's voice was steady, but the pre-wedding gaiety had vanished with Tina Lafayette.

‘If there's anything bothering you, for goodness' sake tell me now,' Eden said, swinging to face her, her eyes concerned.

‘No, nothing …' Gussie avoided Eden's eyes. She would marry Bradley, whom she loved, and then everything would be all right. The voices would stop: the shadows would disappear. Only another fifteen minutes. She couldn't tell Eden: Eden didn't believe her. Eden thought she was mad. She couldn't tell anybody: she didn't need to. Soon she would be Bradley's wife. The spell she had cast would be broken.

‘Eden, sweetie, Mae says your bouquet is waiting downstairs …' Tina burst into the room, happily oblivious of any undercurrent. ‘Your father is waiting for you, Gussie. We should arrive at the cathedral exactly five minutes late, which is just perfect. A bride should never be early … it smacks of eagerness. Now, where did I put my handkerchief? I'm bound to cry. I always do at weddings.'