Into Temptation (Spoils of Time 03) (48 page)

‘The guy’s a schmuck,’ said Mike, ‘an absolute schmuck. I always thought so.’

‘No you didn’t. And don’t talk about Geordie like that.’

‘OK. He’s not a schmuck, he’s an asshole. If not, then why isn’t he here, taking care of you? Instead of beating it down to Washington, back to Mummy.’

‘Mike! Don’t.’ She stood up, glaring down at him. ‘I won’t have him criticised, and it’s not just him, we were both to blame.’

‘All right, darling.’ Nick reached up and took her hand, pulled her down again. ‘He’s a really fine guy, an outstanding human being. We’re all agreed on that. But it was his marriage, he knew what was going on in it. You didn’t. Or only what he told you.’

‘But Nick, he had no idea she was so depressed, that she was seeing a psychiatrist—’

‘Well he should have had an idea. Anyway, let’s not argue about that. Thing is baby, you got caught with your—’ he stopped, looked at Mike.

Mike took a large gulp of beer, and choked on it; Nick suppressed a laugh with great difficulty.

‘What is up with you two?’ said Izzie crossly.

‘Sorry darling. I was just going to say you got caught with your hand in the till—’

‘No you weren’t,’ Izzie glared at him. ‘You were going to say I got caught with my pants down. Well I didn’t. Not quite anyway—’

She suddenly giggled, then stopped talking, overwhelmed with a mixture of laughter and tears; Nick grinned and gave her a hug.

‘That’s better. Now look, you’ve just got to start forgiving yourself. Anyone would think you’d committed murder, listening to you, rather than – well, having an affair with an about-to-be-divorced man. Just what is so terrible about that?’

‘What’s so terrible about it,’ said Izzie, sober again, ‘is that his wife was one of my best friends. She’s been good to me all my life, right from when I was a little girl.’

‘Well that’s tough, I can see that. But she sounds pretty mixed up to me. I mean she has this absolutely horrible child and she puts him before her husband, then acts all surprised when the husband says he’s had enough. I mean is she stupid or what?’

‘Not at all,’ said Izzie, ‘and there’s so much more you don’t understand, she had the most terrible time in the war—’

‘In the war! Honey, that’s over twelve years ago.’

‘I know, but—’

Izzie told them about Adele’s war and about Luc; they listened politely. Then Mike said, ‘So what’s with the daughter? Is she all mixed up and nasty to her stepdad?’

‘No, she’s perfectly lovely to him.’

‘Well then. That guy, the son, he most definitely is another schmuck, I think we can all agree on that. And if your friend can’t see that, then she
needs
to be seeing a shrink, I’d say. Seems to me, Izzie, this whole thing is not actually your fault, not lover-boy’s fault, even, but her fault. She sounds pretty damn tiresome to me.’

‘She’s not, she’s not,’ wailed Izzie, ‘she’s—’

‘OK, OK. Don’t tell us, she’s absolutely lovely, a cross between Mary Magdalene and Joan of Arc. Just – dumb with it. Lady Isabella, you’ve got yourself trapped in a hornet’s nest. You want to get out of it before you get stung. You just let us take care of you, see you don’t get into any more trouble. Now come on, drink up, and then let’s go and eat. Fancy a plate of chop suey?’

Izzie suddenly realised she was hungry for the first time in days.

‘You’re so good to me,’ she said.

‘Sweetheart, our turn. You’ve been pretty good to us.’

‘Why don’t you ask your dad over here?’ said Nick now, ‘tell him you want to have a New York Christmas. We’ll join in, if you like. And show him a really good time.’

‘He wouldn’t come,’ said Izzie, slowly, digesting this idea.

‘Want a bet?’

‘I’m thinking of going to New York for Christmas,’ said Sebastian.

‘What, to see Izzie? Wonderful idea. I might come with you.’

‘Celia, in the first place you’re not invited and in the second you’re not well enough. I’m not absolutely sure about it myself, as a matter of fact. She says I can have her bed but warns me it won’t be comfortable. She says her apartment is really cold as well.’

‘It sounds like hell.’

‘Yes, but I do rather like the idea. I love New York and I want to be with her.’

‘You could stay with Barty.’

‘Yes, but that would rather defeat the object. And anyway, I don’t think I could take Christmas with Charlie.’

‘Me neither. Oh dear, I do hope Barty’s all right.’

‘So do I,’ said Sebastian soberly.

CHAPTER 26

It was ridiculous of course: to be jealous of your own husband. But that was how she was beginning to feel. Professionally, at any rate. And even personally, at times.

Of course life had improved dramatically; it was marvellous to be back in London, the Battersea flat was gorgeous, she had her friends to see, and at least she was no longer isolated and lonely. Cecilia was growing up, she was absolutely enchanting, she was nearly a year old now, scuttling about on her small fat knees, so pretty, with dark eyes and curls, absolutely a Lytton, in fact she looked so like Elspeth as a baby that it was almost eerie. Keir said he sometimes thought she had been created by Elspeth by parthenogenesis and that he had played no part in it whatsoever.

Just the same, looking after her, however sweet she was, wasn’t quite the same as working. She sometimes felt her brain must be wasting away, like unused muscle, that it would never regain its strength; she worried about it.

And it was made much worse, of course, by the fact that Keir was doing exactly what she most loved, and was clearly doing it terribly well. Everyone said that he had real talent, that he was going to be a great asset to the company, that he worked so hard, that all the authors liked him; on and on it went, until Elspeth wanted to scream.

She had done exactly what Celia had said, hadn’t even mentioned that she might like to go back to work, spent her time building up Keir’s confidence, stroking his ego – not that he had ever needed it, in her opinion – and his natural arrogance had never seemed greater. Now, when he came home at night, talking endlessly about this book, that author, the other promotion, as if she understood or indeed knew about any of it, she found it very hard to respond enthusiastically.

She had even talked to Celia about it, had admitted to feeling shut out, resentful; Celia patted her hand and told her to be patient.

‘I told you, darling, things usually sort themselves out.’

‘Yes, I know, and they have to an extent, of course, but I just feel life is passing me by.’

‘I can remember feeling exactly the same at your age and stage of life.

Pacing this house, wondering how I could persuade your grandfather to let me rejoin him.’

‘Why weren’t you there anyway?’

‘I had a miscarriage. After Giles. I was working, too hard I suppose, and one day – well. It wasn’t very nice. Then I had the twins, and of course I had to be very careful. But I made a bargain with him.’

‘A bargain! Granny, you are dreadful. What was it?’

‘I said I’d stay at home for an extra year if he’d agree to Barty coming to live with us.’

‘And he agreed?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Celia. ‘After a while, that is. One has to be patient.’

‘Why did you want Barty so much? It must have been a bit – daunting.’

‘I loved her,’ said Celia simply, ‘I always had. We had a very special rapport, she used to enjoy my visits to her mother – you know I was involved in doing a report on the family—’

‘Yes, yes.’

‘And I realised things were getting rather serious, that her father was illtreating her mother, that Barty herself was being – well, she had a few bruises. I knew I could help. So I did.’

‘And you didn’t have any doubts about it?’

‘Doubts?’ said Celia, and she sounded absolutely astonished. ‘No, of course I didn’t have any doubts. I knew it was the right thing to do, and it was. As you know.’

Elspeth took Cecilia home, marvelling at her grandmother’s selfconfidence; and wondering what bargain she might be able to strike with Keir, that would allow her to go back to work, even part-time.

Barty was literally ticking off the days to Kit’s wedding and the trip to England. It was only with a reunion with her family so near that she realised how much she loved and missed them all. She had bought her outfit – a beige silk suit from Oleg Cassini, who was said to be designing a lot of clothes for the beautiful Mrs John Kennedy – and had taken Jenna and Cathy shopping; it was the longest day she could ever remember. Finally she put her foot down and said it was either the next thing they saw, or they would go in what they had; and in Bonwit Teller they found an A-line dress and jacket for Jenna in green-blue taffeta which almost exactly matched her eyes, and something very similar in palest pink for Cathy.

Charlie had spent a fortune on a morning suit at J. Press and a large additional wardrobe for the trip, from just about every store in New York. When she queried the need for three overcoats and five suits, he looked at her with a certain malice and said, ‘I didn’t think you’d want to be ashamed of me.’

Christmas had been surprisingly all right. Things had been very cool between them until the girls came home when he suddenly became affectionate and expansive again; on the same day he found premises for a car showroom just off Park Avenue. It was terribly expensive, but she paid the vast deposit without a murmur; he responded by becoming extremely helpful, telling the girls how lucky they all were to have her, and buying her a gold bracelet from Tiffany. With her money. She thanked him effusively. Anything for a happy Christmas . . .

They had stayed in Manhattan; Izzie and Sebastian joined them on Christmas night for dinner. Sebastian had seemed very happy, overjoyed about Kit’s reunion with Celia, very proud of Izzie’s success – Neill & Parker had just won a pitch for a small chain of art shops, with Izzie’s copyline. He seemed completely unaware of any liaison between Izzie and Geordie. Barty supposed she was relieved; but it worried her just the same. She had seen too many secrets, buried for no matter how long, come painfully to light, to believe that any could be kept for ever.

He asked why the boys couldn’t have joined them: ‘I can see they wouldn’t celebrate Christmas, of course, but it would be fun to have them here. I like those fellows so much.’ And Izzie told him they had gone home to their mothers for the holiday, like the good Jewish boys they were.

‘I was hoping they’d come too,’ said Jenna, ‘they’re just so cute. Lucky you, Izzie, working with them all day. And to have both of them in love with you as well.’

‘Nick and Mike,’ said Izzie, genuinely astonished, ‘in love with me? Jenna, don’t be ridiculous, of course they’re not, I’m just – just someone who works for them. More like a sister than anything.’

Jenna sighed, looked at Cathy, raised her eyes to the ceiling.

‘Dumb,’ she said. ‘Seriously dumb.’

‘Jenna,’ said Barty, ‘that will do.’

‘What a delightful notion,’ said Sebastian, smiling at Izzie. ‘Is it true?’

‘Of course not,’ said Izzie firmly, blushing: but thankful nonetheless to be romantically linked, however mistakenly, with two such suitable suitors.

It would be very nice, Barty thought, noticing the blush; it was a notion she had toyed with herself, but then dismissed it. They were hardly Izzie’s type, either of them, and it was true what she had said, their relationship was more like brothers and sister than anything remotely romantic. Izzie did seem much better though, still filled with remorse, but healing. Geordie’s defection, his failure to support her in any way, had hurt dreadfully at the time, but it had been a cure of sorts.

‘I can see what a – a not very nice person he was,’ she said to Barty. ‘If he’d been really sorry, if he’d been concerned for me and my feelings, I’d have respected him more, of course. But I’d have felt much worse in the long run.’

She was still in a fearful dilemma about Adele; and, of course, Noni, not knowing whether or not she should make some kind of approach – write, telephone, even; Barty advised her to do nothing.

‘As Celia says, things very often work themselves out in the end. I’ve certainly found that to be true. Something will happen to make it right—’

‘Nothing could make it right. Not possibly.’

‘All right, make it better. Maybe when we all go over for the wedding . . .’

Izzie was dreading the wedding so much she could hardly bear to think about it.

Adele seemed to Venetia to be very ill. Noni was in despair about her, and Lucas was very shocked when he arrived home after a first triumphant term at Oxford. They had all agreed just before Christmas that the effect on little Clio of seeing her mother creeping round the house in her dressing-gown much of the day, added to the loss of her father, was potentially disastrous. She missed him dreadfully; they had been terribly close, and while she had weathered his departure to the Albany, this was something different. He had not been home since the autumn, and seemed settled with his mother in Washington; not surprisingly, Adele refused to contemplate Clio visiting him there and had written to say that if he did come back for Christmas she would change the locks and refuse to let him see Clio. So far, Clio was still displaying her blithe high spirits, probably because she spent much of her life with her cousins in Berkeley Square, but it was bound to affect her sooner or later.

Adele was obsessed with people ‘not finding out’. While no one knew what had happened between Geordie and Izzie, she felt, she said, safe. She spent a lot of time staring at herself in the mirror. At the gaunt, dull-haired, hollow-eyed woman whose husband had cheated on her with a beautiful young girl with thick hair and creamy skin and huge brown eyes; a girl who everyone loved and wanted to be with. Was it surprising that he should have left such an ugly middle-aged woman? And the betrayal by Izzie was just as hard: Izzie, who she had loved and cared for since she was a tiny little girl, had nursed through so many heartaches, Izzie who felt both like another daughter and a best friend. How could you do that to someone who loved you so much? How could you take the hand that had literally fed you, and cuddled you and stroked your hair while you cried and grieved and mourned, and not just bite it, but hack it off? Only if you thought so little of her, perhaps, that all that kindness and tenderness was as nothing; only if you despised her, laughed at her, behind her back, only if you had never really loved her at all . . .

In the early stages, Adele clung to Venetia, but even she, unthinkable as it once would have seemed, was drifting away from her. She felt that was hardly surprising either: Venetia was busy, successful, happy, she had a good marriage, she was still beautiful, she still looked young. Why should she spend her days struggling to prop up her boring failure of a sister, when there was no point, when nothing was going to make her feel any better, when she would never again be busy or successful herself?

Noni was very sweet to her, but Adele could sense her growing impatience; Noni had changed, and Adele found it difficult to cope with this beautiful, confident creature, a celebrity in the world where she had once been a star of sorts herself. Only Lucas could cheer her; he would sit with her for an hour at a time, telling her funny stories about his life at Oxford, about his new, outrageous set of friends, making a fuss of her, bringing her a glass of champagne each evening before he went out. But he went out an awful lot. She was very lonely.

Even Dr Cunningham was failing her now; on each visit, she told him the same things, over and over again; on each visit, he asked her if anything had changed, if she felt any differently. He had increased the dosage of her pills, especially the sedatives; but they weren’t working, she told him, they did no good any more, she lay awake night after night, crying, fretting, reproaching herself.

Of course there was a good reason for that, which she would not have dreamed of telling him; she wasn’t actually taking them. She was saving them up, the pills, her friends, saving them in a drawer in her studio, where no one would ever find them, saving them for a time when they could take her away from it all for ever and ever. She was just waiting; until she knew it really was time, when there was some kind of a sign that she had had enough. And then she would take them all. All at once. And her friends, the pills, would have finally saved her.

Izzie had decided exactly what she would do. She would say she was coming for the wedding, she would even book a flight; and then, at the last minute, she would cable to say she was ill. It was impossible even to contemplate going; but she couldn’t go on saying she was too busy. Clementine had written her a very sweet note, telling her the date had changed and saying that now, she hoped, Izzie would be able to come: ‘It just won’t be the same without you, Izzie. Kit and I both want you there so much. So tell your horrible boss – he must be horrible, to keep you quite that busy – that you’re coming and that’s the end of it.’ How could she not respond to that?

Noni, too, wrote: ‘You must, must come to the wedding. It would be horrible without you. Incidentally, I hear from Geordie that’ – what had she heard from Geordie, Izzie thought with a pang of terror, her eyes racing on along the lines, but it was all right – ‘both the men you work for are in love with you. Lucky you. Bring them along.’

Well, that was a clever piece of gossip, Izzie thought. How did he do it? How had she ever believed anything he said?

With a stroke of generosity that surprised even himself, Kit had suggested to Clementine that they should make Celia perfectly happy and have the reception at Cheyne Walk.