The Decision (28 page)

‘So how do you know this Charles person, then?’

‘We were in the army together. Before he went off and became an officer, that is.’

He could hear the bitterness in his own voice.

‘He must be a pretty nice chap.’

‘What, to ask me to his wedding?’

‘Oh Matt, don’t be so touchy.’

‘Well, that’s what you meant.’

‘No, it wasn’t, I mean because you obviously don’t see him very often and he hasn’t forgotten you.’

‘How do you know I don’t see him very often?’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ said Gina. ‘Let’s change the subject. But you should go, you’re crazy.’

He didn’t reply to the invitation immediately; he wasn’t actually sure how to, what words you used. Maybe he could just ring Charles. But then that might lead to an argument and he didn’t want Charles to be upset.

Two evenings later, he was having supper with Scarlett and after several stiff drinks showed her the invitation.

‘That sounds like fun,’ she said, ‘or interesting anyway. Actually those upmarket weddings are a bit dull. I went to one last year. It was all over by six in the evening.’

‘What, no dancing?’

‘Nope. Just the service, then champagne and canapés on the lawn, speeches, cutting the cake and off the bride and groom go. But still nice he asked you.’

‘Not you as well,’ said Matt.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Everyone seems to think it’s really good of Charles to invite me to his wedding. As if I was a charity case. Anyway, I’m not going.’

‘Matt, that’s just completely ridiculous. Why on earth not?’

‘Because I’d feel like a charity case. I might drink out of the wrong side of the glass. And anyway, I’ve fallen out with his sister.’

‘How on earth did you do that?’

‘It’s – complicated.’

‘Well, I just might understand if I really concentrate. I’m not that stupid. Tell me.’

He told her.

‘Matt, that’s awful. I’m ashamed of you, I really am. So childish. How old are you?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ He glared at her, got out his cigarettes.

‘You’re smoking too many of those things, you know,’ she said. ‘There’s some new research says smoking’s very bad for you.’

‘Oh Scarlett, give me a break. I like smoking. I couldn’t cope without it.’

‘Well anyway, I think you should apologise to Eliza or whatever her name is. I really do. I expect she thought she was just doing you a good turn.’

‘A good turn! Blimey. Spelling out in print what a deprived background I’d had—’

‘Deprived! For heaven’s sake … All she was going to say, obviously, was that you’d done incredibly well, and you’d done it all on your own, without the sort of advantages lots of people take for granted. What’s wrong with that? Absolutely nothing. Rather the reverse, I’d say. And you’re so ambitious. Just think of the publicity you’d have got. Couldn’t you benefit from that?’

‘I don’t need that sort of publicity, thanks,’ said Matt.

‘Well, I think you’re just ridiculous. And I also think you’ve been very rude. What would Mum say if she knew?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought she’d want to read about my humble background either.’

‘Oh, for pity’s sake. I can’t take any more of this. Let’s change the subject.’

‘It’s not me going on about it,’ said Matt, with some truth.

The next morning, he told Jenny he didn’t want to be disturbed, smoked two of the cigarettes that Scarlett had suddenly decided were bad for him, and for the second time in his life, made an apologetic phone call to Eliza.

‘Darling, don’t cry, whatever is it, come on, tell me—’

‘Sorry, Jeremy. So sorry. I’ll – I’ll be all right in a minute.’

‘It’s not Charles, is it? Charles and Juliet?’

‘God, no, I wouldn’t cry about that. This is much, much worse. It’s—it’s Daddy. He’s – he’s got Parkinson’s Disease.’

‘Oh, my God. Oh, Eliza, my darling, I am so, so sorry.’

‘Yes. It’s terrible, isn’t it? He’s not too bad yet, he hadn’t even told Mummy, but he’s got a bit – well, feeble and – and shaky obviously, and he dropped one of her precious bits of Spode the other day and it smashed and she lost her temper and started yelling at him, she says she feels so ashamed now—’

‘These things happen. I’m sure he understood.’

‘Yes, of course. But – well, he told her. That he’d got it. She rang me, she was crying, it was awful. And then there’s all the worry about the house … I’m sorry, but I’ll have to go down this weekend to be with them, I can’t go to Norfolk with you, I’m so sorry.’

‘Darling of course you must. Don’t even give Norfolk a thought. It won’t go away, we can go another time.’

She came back on Sunday evening, very subdued.

‘It was horrible.’ She took the gin and tonic Jeremy had poured for her. ‘Worse even than I expected. Daddy wasn’t so bad, he was sort of determined but cheerful, Mummy was terribly shaken, trying to be brave. He’s not too bad physically, they’ve put him on some drugs that will help for a while, apparently, but he has got a bit of a tremor in one hand, I can’t think why I didn’t notice it before, I feel dreadful about it.’

‘Darling, that’s exactly what your pa didn’t want, that’s why he was keeping it to himself. Bloody brave, I must say.’

‘Isn’t it? Bless him. And of course what they’re most afraid of is having to move. Apparently the doctor said they should consider moving into a bungalow. Because Daddy will find the stairs very difficult, later on. And Charles started going on about the house falling down round their ears, and how we couldn’t afford to get it fixed, said perhaps it would be better to try and sell it and—’

‘Could they sell it? Didn’t you tell me there was some kind of trust?’

‘Well, yes. It’s owned by the trustees, but Mummy has Power of Appointment, which means she can appoint it out to anyone within her discretion and that of the trustees of course. But unless one of us was really rich that wouldn’t do any good because the trustees aren’t allowed even to mortgage it to raise money for repairs.’

‘It sounds like a very badly thought out trust to me. Who set it up?’

‘My grandfather. But they could let it, I think. And move. But can you imagine, leaving Summercourt and living in a bungalow. It would break Mummy’s heart. “It’ll be fine,” she kept saying, “as long as we can stay here.” And then I said well what about if we both chipped in, me and Charles, we’ve both got a bit from Granny and Grandpa, that’d pay for quite a bit of work, and Mummy said she couldn’t possibly accept it and Charles said of course she could and it would be for our benefit in the long run, when we take Summercourt over. Anyway that calmed them down, and we managed to get onto talking about help and daily care when it was necessary, and they both looked a bit happier. But they seemed so small and vulnerable and lonely somehow, when we left. It’s such a nightmare, and I don’t know how much we helped at all.’

‘I’m sure you did. Look, darling, you know I’ll do what I can, don’t you? Help you organise nursing for your father, that sort of thing. And as I’ve said, my GP is excellent, we could talk to him, see if he knows any specialists. And we can go down any weekend you want to. I don’t mind. I adore your parents, you know I do.’

‘Oh, Jeremy, you’re such an angel,’ said Eliza, putting her arms round him, kissing him, ‘so kind and – well, so good. Thank you.’

Later, staring into the darkness, fretting over the situation, and thinking how extraordinarily nice he was – how did anyone get to be like that? Especially someone as over-privileged as Jeremy? – the words ‘too good to be true’ kept slipping into her head. That’s what he was. Bit hard to live up to, that was the only thing. So, was this love? Certainly seemed to be.

‘That wedding,’ said Matt. His voice was very casual.

‘What, the posh one? Yes, what about it?’

Gina’s large grey eyes were suddenly sharp.

‘I – well, I’ve decided to go after all. And I – well, would you like to come with me?’

‘Well – I don’t know. I might be busy. When was it?’

‘It’s 26 June.’

‘I’ll have a look in my diary.’

He knew she would agree and she knew he knew; but she played a lot of games like this.

‘Well – I’ll have to see what my parents say. They’re having a drinks party that evening. But should be all right.’

‘Well, don’t put yourself out.’

‘I won’t.’

It was the conversation with Eliza that had persuaded him. She was clearly embarrassed herself by the whole article thing, and said she was sorry if she’d upset him, she really hadn’t meant to, it had all been a stupid misunderstanding, and that she’d see him at the wedding.

‘You will come, won’t you? I know Charles is really hoping you will.’

After that, it seemed rude to refuse.

He was dreading it just the same. He’d been to Moss Bros and hired a monkey suit, the full works, had even been talked into a top hat. He’d never seen such a prat in his life as the one who looked back at him from the mirror.

Gina was very excited about it, and had bought a long crêpe dress from Biba.

She had also borrowed a hat from James Wedge, whom she knew, and told Matt, to his relief, he shouldn’t wear the one from Moss Bros.

‘It’ll be mostly the ushers and so on who’ll wear them, well, they won’t wear them, just carry them. I wouldn’t even worry about gloves, it’ll be awfully hot hopefully. Now, have you thought about a present?’

Matt said he hadn’t and that he didn’t have the faintest idea what to give them.

‘OK, well, they’ll have a list, probably at Peter Jones. We can just choose something off that, it’s really easy. Don’t look so worried, Matt, it’s going to be fun. I can’t wait.’

‘Hope so,’ said Matt gloomily.

Sarah felt very frightened. A friend’s husband had died after four years of Parkinson’s and she knew very clearly what lay ahead. Increasing immobility, increasing dependence, a shutting down of life as she knew it; she would be confined to the house, less able to do what she wanted, to make trips to London, and to visit friends. What at the moment were the mildest of symptoms would become, she knew, something quite ugly. Adrian would become depressed, physically feeble, odd-looking, unable to perform the most simple tasks for himself. Eating would be difficult, a social life impossible. With the best will in the world, they would become more dependent on their children, turn into the sort of responsibility she would hate.

But all of that paled into complete insignificance, set against the threat of having to leave Summercourt. That was unthinkable.

Summercourt was a part of her, she belonged to it and it to her. It gave her happiness, interest, and an absolute sense of security; and it would give her courage. She knew that. Somehow, somehow, they had to stay there.

‘Matt?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It’s Eliza. Eliza Clark.’

‘Oh – yeah. Morning.’

‘Good morning. Look – I know I told you it was too late to do that article.’

‘Ye-es?’

‘Well, it might not be. The editor’s decided to put it in a later issue.’

What he’d actually said was, ‘Is it too much to ask you to find me someone just a little more interesting than this load of wankers. I don’t want to read about a lot of bloody poofs. Hairdressers! Give me strength.’

‘So – would you still be interested? I mean, now you understand what it’s about a bit more?’

‘I – might be.’

‘Oh – well, good. Could we – could we do it this week, do you think? If you decide you will, of course.’

‘I don’t know about this week. Very, very busy this week.’

‘Well, that’s a shame. Next week really is too late.’

‘Well, let me just ask my secretary, might have a corner on Thursday –’ he bellowed Jenny’s name – ‘yes, I could possibly do Thursday evening. Any good?’

‘I’ll see if the journalist’s available.’

‘I thought it’d be you.’

‘Oh – no. No, it’d be a freelance. Or possibly our features editor, Annunciata Woburn.’

Annunciata! What kind of person called their child Annunciata? Their kind, he supposed.

‘That’s a shame,’ he said, ‘I’d much rather talk to you. Can’t you do it?’

‘Um – well – I don’t think so. I’m not a features person. I’m fashion, it’s quite different.’

‘You still work on the magazine. I really don’t want to talk to – well, to anyone else.’

‘Right. Well – OK. I’ll have to ask, get back to you.’

Annunciata said it would be fine, if that was really the only way they could get Matt, and that she would supply Eliza with a list of questions and then write it up herself, ‘so it reads like the others’, thus displaying the usual attitude of what Jack called ‘proper journalists’ to the air-headed fashion girls. Eliza swallowed it without protest; she was too intrigued by the prospect to risk losing it.

‘And ask him about photographs. I’d like to do one on a building site or something like that.’

‘Yes, course.’