Into Temptation (Spoils of Time 03) (51 page)

‘Why?’

‘She got unreliable. Late in day after day, hangovers, mostly. It was OK, she got another, but not as good. So – more debts, more worries, more drinkin’. Sally said she begged Charlie to get another job, to help Meg, but he wouldn’t. Told her it was crazy, when he’d come this far. It was always just around the corner, the big break, the big money. And who’s to say it wasn’t, he was certainly clever enough. But then Meg got pregnant. She was real happy, gave up the drink straight away, Sally said, just like that. But of course she couldn’t work, not for long. So Charlie had to get a job again. Give up his own firm. He was really upset about that, there were lots of rows. But – Cathy was born, and he just fell in love with her. It was like he lost interest in Meg from then on, all that mattered was Cathy.

‘Nothing was good enough for that child. He insisted on moving into another, bigger apartment they couldn’t afford so she could have what he called a nursery. He bought her pricey clothes and toys, the best pram, it was ridiculous. It was around then I met Sally; Bob, that’s her husband, died and she moved to my neighbourhood. He was a bit like Charlie from the sound of him, talked big, never made any real money. He left most of what he had to Sally, but it wasn’t much, and a little bit to Meg, a few hundred dollars. Meg didn’t tell Charlie about that, didn’t want it to go where she knew it would, into another of his schemes. She kept it quiet, it was their secret Sally said. Anyway, he did get a job and worked really hard, but it wasn’t enough. And so Meg had to get a job too. Well, she couldn’t work in the day, because of looking after Cathy. Sally offered to help, but Charlie wouldn’t let her.’

‘Why not?’

Mrs Dixon looked at her. She seemed embarrassed.

‘Please do go on, Mrs Dixon, I really want to know.’

‘Well – forgive me for saying this about your husband, but he’s a godawful snob. The right accent, the right school, all that stuff really mattered to him. He was always trying to make out he was better than what he was, he believed it himself, Meg said. He didn’t want Sally round his precious princess of a daughter, said she didn’t speak good enough, or some such rubbish. Anyway, Meg wasn’t gettin’ on with her ma so well at that time, they’d had too many rows about Charlie. So she worked in bars at night. And that wasn’t too good, not with her problem. She used to come home drunk, and they’d have awful rows. Real screaming matches. And course it was costing money, the drinkin’, by then. She was spending her earnings on it. I liked Meg, she was real pretty, and smart too. Another husband and she’d of been a success, I reckon. And the same goes for him, maybe, I can see you could be good for him.

‘Anyway, Meg couldn’t cope with any of it. The debts, the rows, Charlie. So she drank more and more. Charlie did try and help, it’s important you know that, he tried to make her go for counselling, and to Al Anon meetings. But she wouldn’t, said it was all his fault, if he’d work a bit harder, earn some proper money, stop wasting it on all the stuff for Cathy – she just hated him in the end, she was just so angry with him, all the time, said that was why she drank. Mind, she spent half what he gave her for food on liquor.

‘And it got real bad for the kid, she was three or four by then, and there was her mom reeling about the place, getting the shakes, vomiting, falling over, shouting at her dad. Last straw came when it was time for Cathy to go to school; she had to have the very best, no neighbourhood schools for her. That was when Charlie had to let Sally help, fetch her from school and that, because Meg couldn’t be trusted to be sober. But she had to say she was the maid.’

‘Oh God,’ said Barty.

‘Yeah, I know. She did it for Meg, Meg begged her to go along with it, to keep Charlie happy. She did try to move in with Sally, take the kid, but Charlie said if she went, he’d get Cathy, tell the authorities about her drinking and she’d never see Cathy again. Anyway, cut a long story short, Meg got hospitalised one day, she’d been drinking early in the morning, wasn’t eating any, she took some pills, Sally found her with the kid, both of’em in the bed, Meg unconscious. Stomach pump, all the usual. She pulled through that time but it did awful things to her insides, and her liver. She was an invalid, really, after that. Sally moved in for a bit, tried to keep her away from the drink, but it didn’t work none. She’d get her to stop for a week or two, then come in and find she’d been bingeing. She wasn’t strong anyway, they found out when she was in hospital that she had a heart condition. Or maybe it was the drink caused it, I don’t know. Charlie was doin’ his best by then, but he had to work, try and pay the bills. And then one night they had a real bad row, he found out about her money from her dad, and he told her she was a disgrace and not fit to be a mother, and then he went out and left her alone, and she just drank and drank and drank and next day she was in a coma. She died in hospital next day.’

She stopped, wiped her eyes. ‘It was terribly sad, Mrs Patterson. Such a waste of a life. It’s an awful thing.’

‘And how old was Cathy then?’

‘Not quite four, I think. Course she didn’t understand. They kept the worst from her. Right at the very end, she was livin’ with Sally most of the time.’

‘Poor little girl.’

‘You got it, Mrs Patterson. Poor little girl. She just thought her mom was ill, they kept telling her that. Without Sally she’d’a been much worse off. She saved her, you know, she really did.’

She blew her nose, wiped her eyes again.

‘Then right after, he came and took her, and hardly ever let Sally near her again. It was real sad, she’d done a lot for that little girl. And Cathy liked her then. But he turned her against her gran. Charlie, I mean. Told her she was mean and that she didn’t like him and didn’t want to see them no more. He just wanted to start again, it seemed like, turn himself into someone else. He moved away, got a new apartment and that was that. He got hold of the money Meg’d been left, said he was going to use it for Cathy’s school fees. He was obsessed with that child, just obsessed. And with giving her the best. Anyway, Sally reckons he killed Meg. Course he didn’t. Lots of ways he tried real hard, I really want you to know that. It was the drink that did it. But – well, I guess he didn’t do her no good either.’

‘No,’ said Barty. ‘No, I can see that.’

‘You seem nice,’ said Mrs Dixon, ‘good for Cathy, I’d say. How is she anyway? Sally hasn’t seen her once since she was around nine or ten.’

‘She’s fine,’ Barty spoke slowly; she felt as if she was waking from a long troubled sleep. ‘She’s very pretty and very sweet, and she and my daughter are great friends. They’re at boarding school now, the pair of them—’

‘Boarding school! Charlie’d like that.’

‘Yes,’ Barty said. ‘Yes, he certainly does.’

She said goodbye to Mrs Dixon after that, asked her to tell the doctor to phone her and that she would pay for anything necessary, and maybe come back another day.

‘You sure you’re all right?’ said Mrs Dixon. ‘You look awful pale.’

‘I’m fine. Thank you. Yes. But I must go.’

As she reached the reception area on the ground floor, Barty felt so dizzy, so sick, she had to sit down for a moment with her head in her hands. People looked at her curiously, sympathetically, obviously thinking she had suffered a bereavement, had lost someone very important to her, someone she had loved very much. She supposed that in a sense she had.

CHAPTER 27

She would have to get away; not be there, be in a different city, a different country, even. She would leave, take herself off permanently somewhere, where no one would be able to find her, where she would be safe. Only – where?

It had been Noni who had said it, excitedly, over breakfast: ‘Izzie is coming, isn’t it lovely?’

‘Coming where?’ she had said stupidly, stabbing butter on to her toast.

‘Here, of course. For Kit’s wedding. Maman, what is the matter, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘Oh – nothing,’ said Adele, ‘nothing at all. Sorry, I was – I was thinking about something else. Excuse me, Noni, I have to – have to make a phone call.’

Venetia arrived and tried to be reassuring.

‘She has told Sebastian she’s coming, yes. And Kit. But – darling, don’t sound so terrified, is she really going to blurt out all about it to everyone at the wedding? I wish I could make you understand, she’s going to be as wretched as you are about it. With good reason. I—’ she stopped. Tearing into Izzie wasn’t going to help; she had refrained from doing so throughout. She had written to her, that one firm, cold letter, and had felt there was no more she could do.

‘Well I can’t bear it. I don’t know how she can even consider coming. At least Geordie’s had the decency to stay away. I think you’re wrong, Venetia, I think she’ll tell everyone, have them all laughing at me and thinking how wonderfully attractive she is. You know she never got anyone after Kit and thought she was going to be an old maid—’

‘Adele, for heaven’s sake. Do stop it. You’re being ridiculous.’ Venetia knew it was wrong to talk to her like this, it smacked of telling her to pull herself together, the one thing Dr Cunningham had said she was incapable of, but she couldn’t help it. There was a limit to her patience.

Adele promptly started to cry.

‘Now you’re angry with me. It’s not fair, no one’s on my side, everyone’s against me.’ She stopped. Noni had come into the room, her eyes brilliant with excitement.

‘Guess what! Such lovely news. I’ve got a booking in New York, just the week before the wedding. Absolutely marvellous, a big fashion shoot with lots of other models, Suzy Parker for one, can you imagine, me in a shoot with Suzy Parker? Unbelievable. It’s Irving Penn for
Vogue
. And the agency there, Fords, you know, they think they might get me into
Harpers
as well, I’m so excited.’

‘Well done, darling. I – I’m just – going upstairs for a moment,’ said Adele, and hurried out of the room. Noni looked after her, biting her lip.

‘Is she all right? Oh dear, she gets upset sometimes when she hears things like this, almost jealous, I’d think, if it wasn’t so absurd.’

‘It sounds wonderful to me,’ said Venetia, anxious not to spoil Noni’s triumph. ‘Congratulations, darling.’

‘Thank you. And the best thing is I can go and see Izzie, I haven’t seen her for so long. This is my first New York booking. In fact, we could maybe fly over together, you know she’s coming at the last minute and—’

There were moments when it was absolutely impossible to say anything even close to the right thing. This was one. Venetia gave Noni a kiss.

‘Lovely idea, darling,’ she said.

‘How extraordinary,’ said Celia, ‘this is a cable, Bunny—’

‘I can see that, my dear. Not quite senile yet.’

She ignored him. ‘A cable from Barty. She’s coming over on her own with the girls. Without Charlie. She doesn’t say why. What on earth could that be about?’

‘I really couldn’t say, Celia. Perhaps he’s very busy.’

‘Busy! The man doesn’t know what busy means. And he couldn’t wait to get over here, meet us all. No, there’s something behind it. I just wonder what it is.’

‘Can’t help, my dear,’ said Lord Arden, standing up and tucking
The Times
under his arm. ‘If you’ll excuse me now, got a lot to do—’

‘Of course.’

He hurried out of the room; the Lytton women – and he included Barty among them – were so much a law unto themselves, it was very unwise to enter into any conjecture about their behaviour.

Barty had gone straight to South Lodge from the hospital. She had left a message with Maria for Charlie and the girls that she would be there for a couple of days, doing some urgent work, and needed absolute peace and quiet.

She didn’t even want to broach the subject with Charlie; she couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same room as him, never mind entering into a long and painful discussion with him, which would lead inevitably to a great tide first of self-justification and then remorse. She wanted to be quiet, to think, to try to decide what she actually felt, what she wanted to do.

Once there, on her own, she felt better. The power of the place to ease and comfort her did not fail her. She went for a long, long walk along the shore until she reached the shining sheet of Shinnecock Bay. As she pushed against the salty wind, her eyes fixed on the ocean, on the breakers rolling endlessly in, cutting into the white sand, she felt her mind washed clean again, clear of shock and falsehood and ugly discovery. Later, to her surprise, she managed to eat some supper, cooked by an anxious Mrs Mills, and then she went to the great bed in her room, Laurence’s room; she had expected to be awake all night, had left the blinds drawn back so that she could watch the night sky, the extraordinarily brilliant stars undulled by the pollution of the city, but she fell asleep and woke refreshed to see the dawn across the sky.

She spent much of that day in the car, driving around to all the places she loved so much, the ones she had shared with Laurence, first to Sag Harbor, and then on the ferry across to North Haven, she walked there on the shore, then drove back to East Hampton and then to the woods of Amagansett and made her way to Alberts Landing and Accabonac Cliff. She stood looking over to Gardiner’s Island, shrouded in mist as it almost always was, remembering the first time Laurence had shown it to her, and told her about the wild turkeys and white-tailed deer who lived there, and its supposedly buried treasure: he had tried – as only Laurence could – to buy it once from the Gardiner family, and failed.

She knew what she was doing, of course; she was reclaiming it all, making it precious again, special again, no longer shared wantonly with someone who did not deserve it.

She came home, as she had known she would, to a dozen messages from them all, from Jenna saying could they please, please come and join her, from Cathy saying could she please, please come back, they had so much to ask her about, they needed her with them, from Charlie, saying he wanted to see her, he needed to talk to her. And then she knew that he had found out, had discovered she had been to the hospital and that she had to return to him, to real life and to what she knew now that she had to do.

But not yet.

‘I don’t want to spoil the wedding for the girls,’ she said, ‘I’ll take them, of course, and then, when we come back, we can – settle things.’

He was, as she knew he would be, in turn angry, then reproachful, then defensive, and finally very frightened. He knew this time that he was probably beyond help.

Cathy was his weapon, of course.

‘You can’t spoil everything for her,’ he kept saying. ‘Hurt me and you hurt her.’

Barty looked at him levelly and said, ‘You did this to her, Charlie, not me. You put her into a position where she would be hurt.’

Just the same, she knew that Cathy was her problem now: not Charlie.

He was absolutely right; he was horribly clever. And also quite horribly stupid.

She let him tell the girls whatever he wanted; ‘I’m not prepared to lie to them. But I’ll go along with what you say.’

‘Daddy’s not coming,’ Cathy said to Jenna, her great eyes filled with tears, ‘that old witch of a grandma of mine is about to die and he says he has to stay with her.’

‘That is so absolutely like him,’ said Jenna, ‘he’s so kind and good.’

Izzie couldn’t ever remember being so miserable: not even after the abortion, after Kit, after Geordie. God, she’d made a hash of her life. A complete hash. The one thing that was really good about it was her job, and she’d messed it up. She was such a fool. A complete and utter fool. Nick had withdrawn from her; he treated her with polite formality, had stopped teasing her, discussed work but nothing else, called her Izzie, not darling or sweetheart or princess or even Lady Isabella. She found it absolutely disorientating, she felt she hardly knew who she was any more. Mike was obviously embarrassed by the atmosphere between them; he had come back two days later, clearly still unwell, but cheerful, and found himself in an atmosphere of icy gloom. It was rather like the pea-souper fogs which had enveloped London in her childhood, Izzie thought, they were all groping round in it awkwardly, bumping into one another with no real idea where they were going any more.

On the third day, Mike could bear it no longer; he took Izzie out for a coffee. ‘What’s happened to you guys?’

Izzie stared at him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh baby, come on, it’s like the aftermath of World War Three up there. Something must have gone wrong. Well, I know a bit of course but—’

‘So – he didn’t tell you?’

‘Nope. Only that he felt no end of a fool, that he should have stayed with me that night. He kind of left me to fill in the gaps.’

‘Oh,’ said Izzie. ‘Oh, I see.’ She wasn’t sure if she felt better or worse. ‘And – and what sort of things did you fill the gaps with?’

‘Darling, I presumed he’d made a pass at you. Something like that. Which you very sensibly dealt with. Being the clever girl you are.’

‘Well – it was something like that. Yes.’

‘The guy’s a schmuck, no doubt about that. Thinking he could – could make it. With you.’

Izzie felt irritated, without knowing quite why.

‘I don’t quite see why not,’ she said, ‘actually.’

‘Well because he’s what he is and you’re what you are. You must have enough sense to see that, for God’s sake.’

He looked so put out, so baffled, Izzie had to smile.

‘I don’t actually,’ she said. ‘I’d have put it more the other way round. But still—’

‘Oh Izzie, come on!’ He sighed, clearly thought he’d got it right. ‘Look, he’s an idiot, I know. But it certainly isn’t a lot of fun at the moment. So could you just make an effort and put it behind you? Just write it off as inexperience on his part, start acting normal. Please, princess.’

‘Of course,’ said Izzie, ‘I’m sorry. Of course I will.’

In her efforts to act normal, as he put it, she went over the top, laughed too much, talked too loudly, and whenever there was an awkward silence, told them both how much she was looking forward to her trip to England and the wedding.

‘Is he gonna be there?’ asked Nick, rather coldly, one day. His own behaviour hadn’t changed; obviously Mike hadn’t made the same plea to him. Or he wasn’t prepared to act on it. ‘Your boyfriend. Pardon me, your ex-boyfriend. Mr Smooth. The one who was so terribly good to you.’

Izzie flushed; it was her greatest dread.

‘I – I don’t know,’ she said.

Nick said nothing, just walked away and sat down at his desk with his back to her. She stared at that back, that long skinny back, through eyes blinded by tears. Mike gave her an awkward grin and sat down himself.

It was all so horribly, horribly different. And it was all her fault.

They were going to stay at Claridges; Barty felt that was best, despite a flood of invitations. She was already worrying about confronting Adele, with her knowledge of what had happened between Geordie and Izzie standing between them. She knew that Venetia must know, if no one else did, she knew that Sebastian would not, and she knew that moving two teenagers into Cheyne Walk would be a recipe for disaster. The wedding was on 10 March; Charlie drove them to Idlewild on the fifth, kissed and hugged the girls and embraced Barty briefly, kissing her on the forehead. Barty watched him walking away, and wished she felt more; every emotion had left her, anger, sadness, resentment, any sense of foolishness, even. She regarded him temporarily, at least, with a cool distaste, and a sense of slight wonder that she had ever felt anything else towards him at all. She supposed they would return, the violent emotions, but was grateful for the respite.

Cathy burst into tears as he walked away from them and continued to sob loudly until she found herself on the plane, where the excitement of being shown to her seat and strapped in, of watching the earth sinking beneath them as they took off – and of being offered sweets and orange juice by the stewardess, and even champagne – took over.

‘No,’ Barty said at once. ‘Certainly not, Cathy. Nor you, Jenna.’

They both stared at her, shocked by the sharpness of her tone, then nudged each other, raised their eyebrows and finally started to giggle; she sat there, mildly irritated by them, but aware that this was a new burden she was going to have to carry for as long as she had care of Cathy, a new fear in her life: that she would follow in her mother’s – and her grandfather’s – footsteps and become an alcoholic.

‘Darling, I want to talk to you.’

Elspeth’s eyes were very tender as she looked at Keir, and handed him his plate, laden with the fish pie that was his favourite. Tender and just a little anxious. He took a large sip of water – they couldn’t afford wine, except on special occasions – looked back at her suspiciously.

‘Yes? What about?’

‘I – I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘Ye-es?’

‘I’m – well, I’m having another baby.’

He looked horrified. There was a silence. Then he said, ‘Elspeth, you can’t be. We’ve been so careful. I thought. Or – ’ his eyes on her were very hard ‘ – or – haven’t you?’

‘Keir that’s so horrible. I can’t believe you said that. Of course I’ve been careful, I always, always wear the beastly thing, you know I do. I’d never not. But you know perfectly well Cecilia was an accident, and – well, it seems to have happened again. Anyway, it’s really nice you’re so pleased. It makes me feel very happy and secure.’ She stood up, threw her table napkin down. ‘Anyone would think I’d committed some awful crime, rather than making love with and getting pregnant by my own husband. Perhaps you’d rather we abstained completely in future. Then you’d be quite safe.’