The Blue Rose (17 page)

The dinner was simple but excellent. It was the simplicity of the food that made it possible for Vittoria and Antonio to cook and serve a dinner for ten people without batting an eyelid. They began with iced Vichyssoise soup mixed with cream to a velvety smoothness; followed by cold salmon, new potatoes and asparagus served with green mayonnaise; and to end up with there was a
compote
of raspberries and red currants.

They moved to the other end of the room for coffee and liqueurs so as to give Antonio a chance to clear away and set up the bridge tables. The evening was so warm that they left the long windows open into the garden. When it came to who should cut to play bridge, Robin said quite definitely that he didn’t want to play; he didn’t feel like playing that evening. Stephen, Rose was glad to see, took Tony under his wing. “We’ll play a kind of family bridge this evening,” he said in such a way that there could be no argument. “You and I, Tony, will take on the Frentons. You others can play families or not just as you please.” Rose realized why Stephen was doing this. For one thing Tony might not play very well, in which case it would not matter to anyone but his partner, and for another thing, if they were playing for stakes higher than Tony could afford, Stephen would be able to carry him without any embarrassment. If Rose had never loved him before she would have loved him for this kindness to and thoughtfulness for her old friend.

She was just preparing to sit down near Stephen with her knitting, as she usually did on bridge evenings, when Robin said to her: “Let’s go out into the garden. There are only about two evenings in the whole summer in England when it’s warm enough to sit out, so it would be a crime to waste them. And you’re lucky to have a garden.” She went out with him and they sat down in two basket chairs in the warm darkness. He offered her a cigarette, which she took. She hardly ever smoked but it seemed right somehow to smoke in the dark. The glowing tip of the cigarette looked so pretty.

“That’s the wonderful thing about London,” Robin said. “One doesn’t have to smoke to keep off the midges. There’s a lot to be said for a heat-wave in London.”

“And poor Gai in bed with flu,” Rose replied. “It does seem a shame, especially in this weather. I must send her some flowers to-morrow.”

“That’s very sweet of you. I know she’d appreciate it. But don’t go and see her whatever you do. No point in running into infection. I’m keeping well away myself.”

“Poor Gai,” Rose said again. “I hope you telephone to her a great deal to make up
...
You
haven’t had your holiday yet this year, have you?”

“No, we’re waiting till September. Gai can’t get away before then.’

“It’s probably very impertinent of me to ask
...”
Rose began.

“Of course it isn’t.
You
can ask me anything,” he put in quickly.

“Then why aren’t you and Gai engaged?”

“Oh, I don’t know. An engagement is almost as binding as a marriage, isn’t it? I don’t think I’m ready yet to get married.”

“That’s what I thought before I met Stephen. But all that changes as soon as you really fall in love
...”

“Perhaps I’ve never really been in love then,” he replied quietly.

“It’s strange that you and Stephen should be such friends,” she said. “You are so different.”

“It’s not really strange. It's just that we’ve known each other such a long time. Propinquity and all that, you know. We were at the same prep, school, but even before that we knew each other at children’s parties. I wouldn’t be surprised if we had played in the same play-pen! But don’t think we haven’t had our rows. We’ve had some simply glorious fights!”

Rose laughed, and Stephen, who had happened to be dummy at that moment and had gone over to the open windows and was standing on the top step looking down at them sitting there in the darkness, heard the laugh and winced.

“You sound happy to-night,” Robin said.

“I am. Terribly happy.”

“You’re too damned attractive when you’re happy.” Although she wanted Robin’s admiration she felt that this was going too far. But then she looked up and saw Stephen standing there (had he overheard Robin’s remark? She rather hoped so), and with an impulse towards coquetry, stimulated by Clare’s constant advice, she heard herself saying in a clearly audible voice: “Then I must always be happy.”

“You’re a bit of a devil, aren’t you?”

“Do you think so?”

Stephen had gone in and she was immediately ashamed of the part she had played. “I must go and see if anyone wants a drink,” she said.

“No, don’t go yet.” His voice was low and thick and she felt a little afraid.

“Yes, I must go. I’m being a very bad hostess,” and she got up quickly. He tried to restrain her by taking hold of her wrist but she snatched it away and returned to the drawing-room as quickly as her skin-tight dress would allow.

Stephen and Tony were winning. Tony was playing a hand again, and playing it quite adequately but with agonizing pauses. Clare was tapping impatiently on the table with her pencil. At last she burst out: “For goodness’ sake, if you can’t play bridge at least play quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said. “I know I’m being slow but it’s an awfully difficult hand.”

“Never you mind, partner,” Stephen said encouragingly. “You take your time.”

Tony finished the hand at last and made his contract which gave them game and rubber. He turned round to Stephen and said: “It wasn’t easy.”

“No, it certainly wasn’t. Bravo,” Stephen congratulated him.

“It certainly wasn’t easy the way you played it,” Clare put in. “But if you’d taken two rounds of trumps before cross-ruffing you couldn’t have failed to make it.”

“Yes, I suppose I should have done that,” Tony said, crestfallen. “It was stupid of me.”

“Not at all,” Stephen said. “You took a view. The trumps happened to be divided, but if they hadn’t been you played it much the best way.”

Tony looked happy again.

Clare consulted her tiny diamond watch. “Goodness, look at the time!” she exclaimed. “We must be going.” It was in fact much earlier than these bridge evenings usually broke up, but it was obvious—at any rate to Stephen and Rose—that Clare did not intend to play any more with Tony. “How much do we owe?” she asked. “It must be a packet. You’ll have to pay for me, Clive. It always happens when one doesn’t cut for partners that one side has all the cards.”

Clive took two five-pound notes out of his wallet, and Stephen gave him four shillings change. Then Stephen handed one of the notes to Tony and said: “Have you got two bob?”

“But I can’t take all this,” Tony said. “I had no idea we were playing so high. I couldn’t have paid if I’d lost, so I can’t possibly take it.”

“Take it,” Clare said, “and buy yourself a few bridge lessons.” She tried to say it jokingly but Tony blushed to the roots of his hair and made no more protest about t
akin
g the money.

Rose could see that there was a retort on Stephen’s tongue but he controlled himself. Instead he patted Tony on the shoulder and said: “What kind of night-cap would you like? A whiskey?”

“Have you got a beer?”

“Certainly.”

The other table soon broke up, and after a good-night drink the guests all took their departure. As they shut the door on the last of them Rose stood up on tip-toe and kissed Stephen. “Thank you, darling,” she said, “for being so sweet to Tony. I can see that you’ve made a complete conquest of him. It’s the best thing that could possibly have happened.”

“I wasn’t sweet to him, as you call it,” Stephen said with a frown. “I happened to like him enormously
...
But what on earth was the matter with Clare? I have never seen her behave like that before. I could have killed her. Was she drunk, do you think?”

“I don’t know. It seemed to me she didn’t like losing. Is Tony very bad?” They had gone back into the
drawing room
to put the cards away.

“Not that bad
...
By the way, why did you tell Clare that you couldn’t afford a proper dress?”

She blushed scarlet. “I didn’t tell her that.”

“Didn’t you? Is Clare a liar then?”

“No, of course not. I suppose I did say that in a way. I said I didn’t want an
expensive
dress.”

“Why not? You know that you can get anything in the world you want within reason.”

“I
’
m sorry. It was stupid of me, but I find it so difficult to know how much to spend. But I’m afraid this was awfully expensive. And I bought four
...”

“Well, do you like them, that’s the main thing?”

How could she tell him that she had been so weak as to let herself be talked into buying four expensive dresses which she didn’t like, and besides she was not sure now that she did dislike this black taffeta—it had certainly done something for her that evening—so she found herself murmuring: “Yes, I do.”

“Let’s go up,” he said abruptly.

Upstairs he had to unzip her dress for her, and when he had done so he turned her round to him and kissed her fiercely. There was a kind of hunger then in his passion which he had never shown before, even on that wonderful night at The Three Kings in Basle, and she found herself thinking joyously: “It is working. It’s my new personality. He’s fallen in love with me again.”

Afterwards, when they were lying in the dark, he said to her: “Rose, I’m afraid I’ve got to go to New York next week.”

A chill ran through her. “Can I come with you?”

“I’d like to take you, but it’s only for a week or ten days, and I’m afraid that really would be a gross extravagance.”

“Yes, of course.” She suddenly recalled what Clare had said at lunch that day about going to America next week. What a strange coincidence. Or wasn’t it a coincidence? “When Clare rang you up this morning,” she asked, “did you tell her about having to go?”

“Why? Did she say anything? Yes, I did tell her, but I asked her not to tell you as I wanted to break it to you myself. Did she tell you?”

“No, but we just happened to be talking about New York.”

III

Two telephone calls came the next morning to lighten Rose’s depression at the thought of Stephen’s going away. First of all Tony rang up to say how much he had been helped by going to dinner there the night before and how glad he was now that she had insisted on it. He had liked Stephen so enormously. “I can’t tell you how much that helps,” he said. “He’s just about the nicest man I’ve ever met.” Rose gathered that he had conceived almost a hero
-
worship for him. “But what a detestable woman that Mrs. Frenton is,” he went on.

“She isn’t really,” Rose put in quickly. “I must say she was awfully rude last night. We were terribly sorry about it, but we’ve never seen her like that before. I don’t know what was the matter with her. She’s really been wonderfully kind and helpful to me. She’s one of Stephen’s oldest friends.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Tony said. “But still, the less said about her the better. I can’t think why her husband doesn’t keep her in order though
...”

He had rung up to say good-bye. He didn’t know when he would be in London again. Rose was not sorry that he was going away but she was very pleased that they could part now on a much happier note.

The second call was from Francie to impart the wonderful news that she was going to have a baby. Rose found the tears pricking her eyes when she heard this. She was so moved, so delighted, particularly because she knew how greatly both Francie and Derek had been longing for this event.

“Oh, darling, I’m so pleased,” she said. “It’s the most wonderful, exciting thing I’ve heard for ages.”

“You hurry up too,” Francie said, “then we can wheel them in the park together!”

Rose laughed. “You will take care of yourself, won’t you? You won’t go and overdo it?”

“I’ll try not to,” Francie said. “As a matter of fact I’m not feeling too bad. Not nearly as sick as I expected to be, but as luck would have it, instead of things slackening up, we’re busier than ever. Shane has had to leave us—at any rate temporarily. They’ve found a backer for the musical comedy, which is wonderful for him, but most of his lyrics have got to be altered so he’s got the most tremendous rush job on. It’s going to be very difficult to find anyone who will work the way he has
...”

“If I can help out in any way
...”
Rose began.

“Thank you, darling, I may take you up on that.”

“Stephen has got to go to New York next week so I shall be at a loose end.”

“Without you? Poor pet. Well, you’ll come in and see us whenever you like, won’t you? I must fly now.”

Rose put down the receiver thinking: “Lucky Francie.” But she deserved it.