It Ends with Revelations (18 page)

How, then, she’d asked, could he bring himself to sleep with her? He’d pointed out that plenty of marriages, such as
mariages de convenance
, were consummated without anywhere near the affection they felt for each other. It would have been unthinkable for him while Alan was alive, but now … He had taken her hand and said – she could remember his exact words – ‘You are the one person in the world I truly care for and, apart from any question of a child, if it would give you pleasure it would give me pleasure too.’

She’d said she would like to think it over, and he’d said of course. All through the conversation she had been staring at a flower he had picked and handed to her on their walk up to the meadow, a very strange flower with hairy petals, pink stained with green. She did not know its name and she had never thought about it since. But she could now see it with the utmost clarity and remember stroking its petals. And yet she could not remember how the conversation ended or what they had talked about, walking down to the village.

Had she then begun to realize what was happening to her? Certainly the full realization had come that evening, when they were back at Innsbruck, and in their historic old hotel bedroom, getting ready for dinner. He had asked if she was sorry their holiday was ending and she had said yes, in a way, but it would be fun to be home. And she had suddenly felt flooded by happiness and known that she was in love with him – and surely he would not offer to be a real husband if he was not more attracted by her than he was admitting to himself? Everything would come right. She would tell him now that she had made up her mind – no, she would wait until later tonight. This darkly romantic old room would make a good setting. It would be the perfect ending to their holiday.

They had dined in a cellar-like room, all antlers and beer mugs. At a near-by table had been a group of very young men, talking and laughing loudly. Miles had said, ‘I fear we’re in for a noisy meal.’ The waiter had handed large, confusing menus. She had studied hers for a few moments and then looked up to ask Miles for advice. He was gazing, over his lowered menu, at the group of young men, and there was an expression in his eyes she had never seen before. Usually they were reflective, sometimes sad, always kind. Now they were brilliantly alive, his whole face was more alive than she had ever known it to be. Only a few seconds passed before he turned to her, smiling and helpful; but in those seconds she had realized that one – possibly all – of those casually-seen young men attracted him more than she ever would. It didn’t change her
feelings for him but it did stop her telling him about them. And that night, when they took a last stroll round the moonlit town, she said she thought their relationship had better remain as it was. She had been almost sure he was relieved, though he had finally said, ‘Well, the offer remains open.’

A month later he’d had his first affair since Alan’s death. He told her about it and she had found herself painfully jealous though she knew that, in the circumstances, she had no right to be. She had forced herself to be
sympathetic
and had most determinedly hidden the jealousy. But had she always hidden it? Perhaps by degrees he’d guessed and tried to spare her by becoming secretive about his affairs – none of which had lasted long or affected their life together. She wished now that she could have let him know that she’d minded less and less, no doubt because – though she had come to admire him more and more and to grow even fonder of him – she had ceased to be in love. Except … sometimes when watching him act, when by imagination and skill he could represent a completely masculine man, she could again feel both emotionally and physically attracted, and these fleeting experiences had a value for her which lasted on into the long periods of unexciting affection. But they were as nothing compared with what she now felt for Geoffrey Thornton.

Well, where did all this get her? And why had it seemed a duty to remember that day in the mountains’? And why had she, before this, sheered off from remembering? That
strange flower had today come back with the startling authenticity of a completely new-minted memory.

Did she feel guilty because she had turned from Miles’s willingness to make their marriage a real marriage – or was it sheer regret she felt, had always felt, and had tried to shut her mind to? Anyway, she had now faced … whatever she had been averse to facing. And all she knew, sitting alone here in the long dusk, was what she had known before: she still deeply cared for Miles and was wildly attracted by Geoffrey.

She heard the front door open and close. It must be the waiter – though trays were not usually called for until the morning. And how had he acquired a key? She was just wondering this when Miles entered the room.

‘What, no lights?’

‘I was too lazy to put them on. Do, if you like.’

‘The room looks better as it is. Twilight softens it.’ He sat down without putting the lights on.

‘Surely you’re back very early?’

‘Peter wanted to start for the party. It’s some way off – in stockbroker Surrey.’

‘Really? Sounds unlikely, somehow.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, there are stockbrokers and stockbrokers.’

‘You didn’t fancy going? Will it be a gorgeous orgy?’ The phrase was an old joke between them.

‘I grow less and less interested in them. Even in my riotous youth I wasn’t much of a one for gorgeous orgies. Alan rather liked them. They’re a curious mixture of the
lyrical and the ludicrous. Well, I hope you ordered yourself a decent meal.’

‘More than I could eat. That nice Austrian waiter’s back.’

‘Oh, good. By the way, how would Austria be for our holiday? You liked it, didn’t you? All those flowers – though there wouldn’t be so many at this time of the year. Do you remember that mountain meadow near Innsbruck?’

She told herself it was perfectly natural he should speak of Austria, her mention of the waiter must have reminded him. And yet … but surely thoughts could not linger on in the air? ‘Yes, I remember,’ she said, with no comment in her tone.

‘I’ve often wondered if we made the right decision.’

‘About what?’ She said it to give herself a moment for thought but found herself incapable of thought.

‘If you don’t remember, we probably did.’

There was enough light for her to see that he was smiling at her. She said, ‘I do remember now, of course I do. And right or wrong, it was
my
decision, wasn’t it? And I think it was for the best.’

‘Very possibly. And anyway, you always knew it wasn’t irrevocable.’

‘I did indeed. Funny we should talk about it after all these years, just because I spoke of the Austrian waiter. Would you get me a drink, darling?’

He rose to get it while she carried her tray to the kitchen. When she returned he had put the lights on and
picked up a paper. She did not now think that either the waiter or telepathy had led him to say what he had said, though her reference to the waiter had given him an excuse to say it. She thought he was, with extreme tact, offering himself as a substitute for Geoffrey Thornton. And it made her problem infinitely more difficult.

12

Three Children on a Doorstep

But by the next morning she had changed her mind; let herself off, as it were. She could not believe that Miles, if he did know about Geoffrey, would have played such a scene with her. Even in a play he would have thought it, well, stagey to put up such veiled competition. Indeed, she doubted if he would think it fair to put up any kind of competition. He would either have come out into the open and wished her luck, or ignored the whole situation – and in the latter case, he certainly wouldn’t have mentioned the mountain meadow. So she could take it that he simply didn’t suspect, and his mention of Austria had been
only
due to her mention of the waiter. Unless … she felt a faint undercurrent of anxiety in case his reminder of their
long-ago
conversation was symptomatic of some present need of his own, some dissatisfaction with life (it must, as far as she knew, be well over a year since he had been involved in
any affair) but she tried to put this idea out of her head. And he seemed his normal self on Monday morning.

She had quite a lot to do. It would take the whole day to buy Miles’s last-night presents for the company. He always gave last-night presents as well as first-night ones, and when she pointed out that this play’s first night and last night came pretty close together he said that was all the more reason for the last-night presents and they had better be specially good ones. She took trouble over the job and was glad to be occupied by it. She was also glad that Miles had to be at a conference about his forth coming film so she did not have to meet him for lunch. She spent the evening in the flat, mentally going over her Saturday outing with Geoffrey – until she firmly snapped out of this and set about seeming like her normal self when she met Miles for supper.

On Tuesday she came to the conclusion that no amount of thinking would change her basic point of view, which was that she wanted to have an affair with Geoffrey but go on living with Miles. It would be
sensible
, kind to Miles and, in the long run, kind to Geoffrey. She tried to rehearse ways of making Geoffrey see this but always ended up by just longing to be with him again. And she still had five days to wait – well, four and a half, counting Saturday as a half-day. She even counted up the hours.

She had a bad moment on Wednesday, suddenly remembering that she usually went to the last night of Miles’s plays. Would she, then, have to cut Geoffrey’s visit short? But mercifully there was to be, on Saturday night,
a television play by a young author Miles was interested in and which he asked her to watch. She hoped Geoffrey would be willing to watch it too.

Thursday seemed interminable – but terminated. Friday was bearable – so close to Saturday. She went to the hairdresser, wished she had bought a new dress. And in the evening she paid her last visit to Miles’s play. The house was barely half full. Miles was still admirable but the show, in general, had deteriorated. As for young Cyril, he had reverted to his out-of-town performance and was shouting his head off.

She commented on this to Miles at supper. ‘How long’s that been going on?’

‘It’s been creeping in for a week but it’s never been as bad as tonight – he had some free seats for his little friends. Well, at least he woke the house up a bit.’

‘You were good as ever, Miles.’

He looked pleased. ‘Really? This last week I’ve relied more on technique than feeling, but having you in front helped.’

She felt a pang. Good though she had thought him, she had not once experienced even a hint of that attraction which his acting had so often awakened.

He asked if she had collected the travel brochures. For several days she had quite genuinely forgotten – and been reminded by him. Now she was able to say that she had the brochures, though she hadn’t yet studied them.

He said they could do that together. ‘Once the play’s off, we can concentrate on them.’

On Saturday they had lunch at the flat (not, to her relief, served by the Austrian waiter) and Miles left for the theatre soon after four – grumbling, as he often did, at having to play two Saturday evening houses – ‘I don’t mind normal matinees, with a rest before the evening show, but I hate jamming two shows so close together. It means I give my worst performance of the week to the biggest house.’

‘You don’t give worst performances, Miles.’

‘That’s all you know. Anyway, I shall be glad when tonight’s over. I’ve had to simulate so much gloom this week, in order to keep down with the company Joneses, that the gloom’s becoming genuine. See you at supper.’ Now that she could expect Geoffrey in less than an hour, she found herself in a state of nervous joy that was positively dementing. And why, why hadn’t she bought a new dress? Her wardrobe was packed with black dresses, gun-metal dresses, grey dresses – but nothing she could imagine pleasing him. Even a black and white striped silk dress Miles had thought too striking now seemed to her suitable for a dowager at a garden party. But in the end she put it on. Anyway, no dowager would have worn such a short skirt (and she hitched it up a bit, with its belt) or such very sheer stockings.

‘And now, I suppose, he’ll be late,’ she thought, as Big Ben began to strike five.

On the third stroke, the doorbell rang. She hurled herself across the sitting room and the hall, and flung the door open. He stood there exactly as she had remembered him: cool, calm, collected, a barrister and a Member of
Parliament, a man belonging to an utterly different world from any she had ever known. ‘Oh, come in, come in,’ she gasped, and barely managed to get the door closed before she was in his arms. Later she hoped that, as regards this, he had taken the initiative, but gravely feared she hadn’t given him time.

After a few minutes, during which they somehow managed to arrive in the sitting room, she said, ‘Oh dear, you’ll think I’m sex-starved or something.’

He laughed. ‘Well, of course you’re sex-starved. You have been for ten years – and even before that, I doubt if you ever had a good square meal. Oh, dear God, how relieved I am to find I like you as much as I thought I did.’

‘Me, too.’

‘That’s a very lurid dress. But after seeing you in it I shall feel much fonder of zebra crossings.’

‘Oh, Geoffrey –’ They had sunk onto the sofa. She edged nearer.

‘Just one minute,’ he said firmly. ‘I dropped a parcel in the hall.’

‘You did? I never noticed.
Dropped
it?’

‘Well, I put it down very hastily.’

He retrieved the parcel and sat beside her untying the string. ‘A habit inculcated by my grandmother. This is from the girls. It had to be camouflaged in brown paper or it might have looked conspicuous.’

The parcel was about a foot square. When the brown paper came off she saw a very decorative box tied with
silver ribbon. He undid the ribbon, saying, ‘They found this vase in an antique shop and filled it with flowers. Robin does flowers rather well, with Kit standing by as a stem critic.’

Jill lifted out the vase. It was small and exquisite, a miniature urn delicately painted with flowers. And the real flowers, moss rosebuds, love-in-a-mist, and some tiny white stars, were little larger in scale. ‘It’s enchanting,’ she said, suddenly near tears. ‘Does it need water?’

‘Not for the moment. They wrapped the stalks in wet moss.’

‘The darling girls. Geoffrey, what did you tell them about me?’

‘What I said I would: a shortened version of the truth.’

‘Were they shocked?’

‘Deeply – oh, not
at
you; for you. Robin wondered how we could ever make up for all you’ve been through. And Kit said, “It was sad for Mr Quentin, too, losing the baby, because I’m sure he’d have been a wonderful father.” Then they jointly cooked up a scheme for Miles to remain a family friend. Kit said, “Perhaps we could always lay a cover for him at our table – like the Thrales did for Dr Johnson.”’

Jill laughed weakly. ‘He’s not very good casting for Dr Johnson.’

‘But seriously, we could remain friends with him. I’d be more than willing, if Miles would.’

For a moment she tried to visualize herself installed in the Westminster house with Miles trotting in and out
almost like an extra member of the family.
Was
such a state of affairs conceivable? Well, not by her. She said, ‘Geoffrey, have you given one moment’s thought to letting things be as I want them’?’

He said he had indeed, and had discussed it with the girls. ‘And Kit at once said, “But then we should never get her free. Besides, she wouldn’t be
ours
.” You see, my love, what you rightly called “the Thornton take-over bid” is a family affair, not just a bid from me.’

She felt a mixture of love and resentment towards the girls but love predominated, which was why she anxiously asked, ‘Did you tell them I’m not really fifty’?’

‘I never thought fifty or anywhere near it. Yes, I told them you’re only thirty-four.’

‘Were they surprised?’

‘Frankly, yes. Also delighted. And Kit said she hoped you’d forgive them for treating you with too much respect.’

Jill, gazing lovingly at the vase of little flowers, said, ‘You have powerful allies. Do they want to see me?’

‘Of course. But they’ll wait till you’re willing. And in case you’re anxious, I’ve muzzled them. Kit was all for rushing to Miles with the glad news. She said such a generous man would instantly let you go.’

‘Well, so he would. Oh, dear, I hadn’t thought of Kit lending a helping hand. You’re sure she won’t?’

‘I am now. She at once saw
you
must make the decision. But has it occurred to you how horrified he’d be if he knew you were even considering remaining with him against your will?’

‘But I still don’t know what my will is. Geoffrey, could we stop talking for a little while?’

‘Well, if it’ll clarify matters for you,’ said Geoffrey, almost resignedly.

After a fairly lengthy interlude he released her, saying, ‘And now, as we’re not going to bed – no, really, we’re not – could you bear to behave like a grey-haired lady of fifty?’

‘You underestimate ladies of fifty. Lots of them would have got you to bed long before this.’

‘I assure you, no. I’m a man of iron resolve … I hope.’

They gazed at each other lovingly and blearily. Then she earnestly enquired if he would like some tea.

‘No, nor a drink, nor a cigarette, nor any bloody thing but some solid sense from you. Now sit still and concentrate.’

‘Well, for a little while.’ She made a sudden dive and kissed him on the ear, then retired to the far end of the sofa.

‘Why my ear, for God’s sake?’ he said, rubbing it.

‘I sort of fancied it. Well, turn on the solid sense.’

‘It’s needed from you, not me. Now, will you tell Miles tonight?’

‘No, Geoffrey. I can’t face it yet.’

He said quickly, ‘Does that mean you’ve made up your mind to, eventually?’

She hastily denied it – to herself as well as to him – adding, ‘Have you the faintest idea what it would mean to him?’

‘I’m not completely lacking in imagination. But you
can’t 
go on with him, not if you’re really in love with me. Perhaps you aren’t.’

‘Damn it, haven’t I shown I am?’

‘Oh, that might be sheer physical attraction, and partly due to the inhibited life you’ve been leading.’

She had thought that, herself, but wasn’t pleased with him for mentioning it. ‘Well, it feels more than that. But I do keep remembering that I was quite happy with Miles up to last Saturday.’

‘Really happy?’

‘All right, let’s say contented. And that’s a hell of a lot compared with the miseries of my youth. I couldn’t face anything like that again.’

He was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘You probably wouldn’t care to say this, so I’ll say it for you. In your youth you were poor. I know your contentment has mainly been due to the affection you and Miles have for each other, but it’s also been due to his money. Well, if you marry me I can ensure by a settlement that, even if the marriage fails, you’ll be in out of the rain.’

She was glad she could say with truth that she hadn’t thought of that side of things – ‘Though I suppose I took it for granted you’d hardly chuck me out to starve. And I’ll admit I wouldn’t like to be poor again. But … no, nothing to do with that worries me.’

‘Then is it only your dread of hurting Miles?’

‘It’s also dread of hurting myself – of losing Miles and then disappointing you. I think I’m a little frightened of you.’ 

‘Because my face looks as if it’s carved out of granite?’

‘
Chiselled
out, very neatly. You have the nicest nose and chin. I bet you look gorgeous in your barrister’s wig.’

‘Superb. I only wish I’d brought it with me.’ His smile faded. ‘Seriously, Jill, why are you frightened of me? Perhaps you think I drove my wife to drink?’

She turned to him in horror. ‘Geoffrey! You can’t possibly believe I think that.’

‘It would hardly be surprising, seeing that I sometimes think it myself. You’d better have an outline of the case.’

‘But there’s no need –’

‘Yes, there is.’ He was now speaking in a tone so unemotional that it was almost cold. ‘The girls can’t have given you the full facts because they don’t know them. And I want you to have them. Much as I want you to marry me, I don’t want to cheat you into it.’