Into Temptation (Spoils of Time 03) (36 page)

Keir had been offered half a term’s supply teaching at a school in Birmingham; it was a much better school than the one in Glasgow and might – just might, he told Elspeth – lead to something permanent.

‘The head and I really see eye to eye. I like him a lot.’

‘I see,’ she said carefully, ‘and you’d go and live down there, I presume?’

‘Of course.’

‘And – what about me?’

‘I don’t know.’ He had clearly not thought about her at all. It made her even angrier. ‘I could come home at weekends.’

‘At weekends. So I’d be alone all week.’

‘You should have made some friends. I don’t understand you. And you could spend more time with my mother. She’d love to see you.’

She ignored this. ‘You don’t think I could go to Birmingham too?’

‘Of course not. We couldn’t get a place for half a term. No, you’ll have to stay here. If I get a permanent job, then you can come and join me.’

Something snapped in Elspeth: something ugly and very strong.

‘No, Keir. Sorry. If you take this job – and I agree you should – then I’ll go home for the six weeks. I will not stay here, on my own.’

‘You’ve got Cecilia.’

‘Keir, I love Cecilia to death. I adore her. But her conversation is limited. I’m bored and dreadfully lonely and I’m not prepared to see it get worse. I’m going home to stay with my mother while you’re in Birmingham and that’s all there is to it.’

Greatly to her surprise he gave in.

‘I think you should see a psychiatrist.’ Dr Ferguson smiled gently at Adele. ‘I really feel you need some help.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said, ‘absolutely ridiculous. I am a bit depressed, of course I am, who wouldn’t be, but I do not need to see a psychiatrist. I find the suggestion rather insulting, actually. I’m like my mother, I believe in sorting out my own problems. I shall be quite all right when – when – I’m sorry—’

Her voice became light with tears; she fumbled in her bag, pulled out a handkerchief.

Dr Ferguson watched her cry. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of, in being mentally ill. It’s no worse than having flu or appendicitis.’

‘Of course it is. It’s a weakness, it’s not being able to cope.’

‘Exactly. Which is what happens when you have flu, your body can’t cope. It needs rest, medication, a little help—’

‘Dr Ferguson, I am not going to see a psychiatrist. I am not. Now please don’t suggest it again. But I would like some more sleeping pills. They are helping.’

Sighing, he wrote her out a prescription.

That night, Geordie telephoned: he was going back to New York, just for a few weeks, Barty wanted to talk about the paperback rights of
Growing Down
, there were people he needed to see. Before he went he would like to see as much of Clio as possible. Adele said of course she understood and tried to sound as if she didn’t mind in the least. Afterwards she cried for a long time.

The letter arrived that morning; Lucas had done exceptionally well in his ‘A’ levels. He went flying up the stairs to tell his mother; she was lying in bed, looking pale and exhausted. But she sat up, flushed with pleasure, and hugged and kissed him.

‘Congratulations, darling. I’m so pleased. Off to Oxford then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well you deserve it. All of it. You’ve worked awfully hard.’

‘That’s true.’ He grinned at her and then, slightly more awkwardly, said, ‘A friend’s asked me to go and stay for a few weeks. In the family place in France. That OK?’

‘To – France? Who with?’

‘Mark’s family. His mother’s going to ring you about it. Down in the South.’

‘How – how lovely for you. For how long?’

‘Oh – a few weeks,’ he said again.

‘Yes, I see.’

He could see she hated the idea, of him going. He felt bad about it. But what was the alternative? Staying here, helplessly, in this miserable house, with her moping about, crying. And there was nothing he could do to help. He’d tried, God knows he’d tried, always trying to get her out to supper with him and so on, but she never would. It was terribly frustrating. And he did terribly want to go. Mark had a very pretty sister, who would be there and who was extremely sexy; Lucas had kissed her several times at parties, and she had made it very clear that she would like their relationship to develop. Lucas wanted that very much too; he was still a virgin and was determined not to arrive at Oxford one.

‘It’s not far away,’ he said rather awkwardly now, ‘I can always come back if – if you need me.’

‘Of course. But I won’t. It sounds marvellous, darling. Of course you must go.’

He felt terrible, even thinking it, but it really would be a relief to get away.

‘It’s so exciting! You’ll never guess.’

Noni had decided this was the way to play it; to present it to her mother as something so wonderful she couldn’t possibly object.

‘What’s that?’

Adele spoke listlessly; she was having what she called a down day.

‘
Vogue
want me to go to California. In a couple of weeks. To shoot some cruise wear.’

‘California! But—’

‘Yes. But only for two weeks, really quick. I’m so excited. What do you think?’

‘I – I’m pleased of course, darling. It sounds wonderful.’

She spoke slowly, as if it was a physical effort to get the words out; Noni felt a pang of remorse. Perhaps she shouldn’t go, perhaps—

‘Really wonderful.’ The voice had changed suddenly, taken on the ultra-bright tone. ‘Lucky you. Goodness, what an opportunity. You must go and see your Great Uncle Jack and Lily, they’ll be so thrilled.’

Noni smiled at her, kissed her. She didn’t sound too bad. Not too desperate about it. She pulled something out of her pocket.

‘Look. This is the colour test shot of my very first
Vogue
cover. Isn’t it lovely? I’m very excited.’

Adele looked at it; it was lovely. Noni was sitting at a table, out of doors, under a huge parasol; the parasol and the scarf which was wound round her head were the same vivid breathtaking azure blue. Her eyes looked huge in her pale face, huge and brilliant, there was the promise of a smile on her full lips and just one curl of dark hair was escaping from the scarf. ‘Who did that?’

‘John French. I do adore him. He’s so – so elegant.’

Adele felt a rush of pride suddenly for Noni; and after that a stab of something else, something less attractive. It was jealousy, fierce, ferocious jealousy.

She could have done that shot; if only she’d been given the chance. Except no one was giving her a chance any more. It wasn’t fair; it just wasn’t fair.

‘You’re what? Investing in what?’ Charlie’s face wore the narrow-eyed mean expression that Barty had come to hate.

‘In Mike Parker and Nick Neill’s agency. Not in a big way, just a few thousand dollars.’

‘Oh, just a few thousand dollars. Hardly worth mentioning. Well that’s fine. I wouldn’t expect you to talk to me about it.’

‘Charlie, you’ve just spent five thousand dollars on that cabin in the Catskills. You didn’t talk to me about that.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I should have told you about your birthday surprise before you had it. I suppose it would have been a good idea. You might have been able to tell me then you didn’t want it.’

‘I didn’t say I didn’t want it,’ said Barty, trying to keep her temper. ‘I said I didn’t think we would have much use for it. We have South Lodge don’t we, for the summer and weekends and—’

‘South Lodge is yours. The cabin is ours. Somewhere we can go without any previous associations. I think we’ll have quite a lot of use for it. I certainly will. I shall enjoy not feeling like a guest all the time.’

‘Charlie – let’s not start that again. I’m sure we’ll have great fun up there. Anyway—’

‘Anyway, you’ve decided to back these guys. Is that a good idea? You might lose the lot.’

‘Well, if I do I do.’

‘Oh so it doesn’t matter if you lose five thousand dollars. That’s fine, we don’t need to lose any sleep over that.’

‘I don’t think we will,’ she said. ‘I have huge faith in them.’

‘Well I don’t. How would they have got into that situation in the first place, almost going bust? You should have asked me about it Barty, I would have advised you very strongly against it.’

‘And that would have been sound financial advice, would it?’ she said. ‘I seem to remember you being in a fair old financial mess, shortly before our marriage.’

‘That is unfair,’ he said quietly. ‘There were reasons for that. As you very well know.’

‘There are reasons for this, too. Like firms that don’t pay their bills, like the big boys can afford to carry a debt, the small ones can’t. I could go on. All I’m doing is putting a bit of money in place to tide them over. Improving their cash flow, if you like.’

‘So – is this Lytton money? Or Laurence’s money?’

‘It’s my money,’ she said; and then bit her lip.

‘Oh, your money. Pardon me. I forgot about that. Well it must be nice. Not having any money of my own, it’s hard to remember that some people have so much they can just throw it away.’

‘Charlie, please. Look, I—’

‘Mother! Can we go now? We’re starving.’

‘You go,’ she said quickly, smiling at Jenna, ‘I have so much to do. You go with Charlie. I’ll see you when you get back. I have an early meeting in the morning—’

‘You’re always working,’ said Jenna, ‘it’s crazy. You should enjoy life more, Mother, there are other things you know—’

‘Jenna,’ said Barty, finally losing her temper, ‘the fact that I am always working enables us to enjoy life as you put it. They don’t come free, you know, all the things you like doing. I—’

‘Hey, honey, not now.’ Charlie put his arm round Jenna’s shoulders, smiled at her, the mean look quite buried suddenly. ‘You don’t want to start putting guilt on Jenna, I’m sure. She knows how hard you work. Now you stay here if you want to, but we’re planning on a real feast tonight, aren’t we girls?’

Jenna didn’t even answer; she looked sulkily at her mother and walked out of the room. The last thing Barty heard was the three of them laughing as they went out of the front door.

She had meant to talk to him about his settlement that evening. It had become something of an obsession. One night, when she had been feeling happy and relaxed, after they had been out on their own for once, and then come back, high on pleasure, and made love, she had agreed with his suggestion that it would solve a lot of their problems if Charlie did have his own money.

‘It would save me having to come cap in hand all the time,’ he said. ‘I think we would both be so much happier.’

Barty hadn’t noticed Charlie coming cap in hand, but she was feeling too content and easy to say so.

‘I’ll talk to the trustees,’ she said, ‘see what they have to say. But I – could make over an agreed amount to you. You could invest it, or use it how you like.’

It was the kind of thing, she was sure, that Celia had meant.

‘I’d be a really good boy,’ he said, ‘look after it very carefully.’

She smiled, kissed him. ‘Don’t make me out to be an ogre, Charlie. I’m really not.’

The very next day she discovered he’d run up a bit of a debt at his bookmakers. Nothing serious, just under five hundred dollars; but enough to make her think. And worry about turning over a sizeable sum to him. She could hardly say, if it was all wasted, ‘Sorry, Charlie, that’s it, no more.’ It would – it could – become a bottomless pit. He was appallingly extravagant. It shocked her at times, that a man who had lived so modestly, managed so well for years and years, should have become so reckless with money. He had taken to going to wine auctions, bidding for cases of valuable wine, paying absurd amounts of money for them, buying pictures and antiques that they had no room for. When she complained – as mildly as she could – he expressed, as always, resentment at first, telling her he was only doing it for her, and then contrition. But it left her worried; and she kept shelving any action on the settlement. Which he was beginning to grow angry about.

The house seemed very quiet when they had gone. It was nice. The girls were growing noisier every day, playing their records at top volume. At the weekends, Barty could scarcely think against the noise of Elvis. Charlie refused to support her in any request to turn it down.

‘They’re only having fun. They’re almost teenagers for heaven’s sake. That kind of music isn’t the same played quiet. Anyway, I don’t mind, I love it too. I was just telling your mother, Jenna, how much I love Elvis. She was wondering if you could turn it down a little. I don’t mind a bit but – I guess she’s trying to work . . .’

Casting her again as one of the bad guys: it never stopped.

She fixed herself some scrambled eggs, remembering how she and Giles had loved them as children in the nursery. That seemed so long ago. She tried to imagine Celia tolerating noisy music. Poor Celia. She must be so upset about Kit’s wedding. Venetia had written telling her about it, about her mother’s grief.

‘No one can budge him on it. Little beast. I’m glad I’m not Clementine, I wouldn’t marry him. I even told him we wouldn’t go if he didn’t ask Mummy, but he said that was up to us.’