The Marrying Game (23 page)

Briefly, she fantasized about following Max to his room and blurting out that she adored him. He did not have to adore her back. In Nancy’s moral scheme, declaring love for a man before you fell upon his hot, naked flesh was the essential, legal difference between high-flown passion and mere shagging. Nancy did not approve of mere shagging. Sex had to spring from love – sex without love was indecent.

This was at the heart of her objection to Adrian. When she agreed to the Marrying Game, she had assumed that love would come to meet them halfway, as soon as the ground was right. Perhaps she had been naïve, but she was deeply disturbed by the utter absence of love between Adrian and her sister. And it frightened her to think of Rufa at the mercy of this chilly man.

Ru’s so stubborn, Nancy thought; she insists that she can live without all that love stuff when she’s absolutely screaming to be loved.

The doorbell rang. Nancy went to answer it. There was a man waiting on the doorstep: tall and lean, probably in his early forties. His hair was thick and dark grey, his face unlined and clean-shaven. His navy suit was several degrees too elegant for Tufnell Park Road on a weekday afternoon. And he was blindingly handsome.

He said, ‘Hello, Nancy.’

The shock woke her like a hard slap. She met the cool eyes of the handsome stranger, and gasped, ‘Oh, my God!’

It was Edward Reculver.

Edward, without the beard and the darned clothes from Millets. Edward, with a proper haircut, instead of the usual convict’s trim. He was speckless and razor-sharp, with at least ten years stripped from him, like the bark of an old tree. It was staggering. Nancy was both amused and impressed that she had been tricked into finding him sexy – old Edward, of all people.

‘Yes, it’s really me,’ he said. He smiled his usual, lopsided smile, unshadowed by the beard. He had worn that beard since he left the army. Before that, he had worn a heavy moustache. This was the first time Nancy had seen his face undressed.

She gasped, ‘What’s happened to you?’

‘I’ve learned humility, seen sense and shaved,’ he said. ‘In that order. Do you approve?’

‘Definitely,’ Nancy said, laughing softly as she stared at him. ‘You look about a million years younger. You look as if you’ve been privatized and expensively redesigned.’

Edward laughed outright at this. ‘Ghastly child – that’s exactly what your father would have said. Is Rufa here?’

Nancy remembered that she was supposed to be angry with him – the novelty of the transformation had blown everything else from her mind. ‘No. So if you’re here to have another go at her, bad luck.’

He winced touchily, but his voice was mild. ‘Before you say anything else, I’m really sorry about last time. That’s why I’m here.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Nancy said. ‘You never apologize.’

‘Well, perhaps I’ve changed,’ he snapped. Then he sighed heavily, and scowled down at his feet. ‘What Rufa said to me was unbelievable. But what I said to her was – bloody unforgivable.’ He glanced up at her sharply. ‘Am I making sense?’

‘Perfect sense,’ Nancy said, thinking there was something very nice about Edward when he spoke in this quiet, direct way. Since the Man’s death, she realized, he had only shown them his lecturing, hectoring side. But this might have been as much a sign of grieving as Rufa’s obsession with saving Melismate – or her own hunger for romance, or Lydia’s hunger for Ran, or Selena’s self-immolation behind a wall of books. Edward was reacting to grief as much as any of them. It was extraordinary, Nancy thought, how they had all forgotten how to behave normally. ‘You don’t have to worry that I’ll give you another earful,’ she assured him. ‘I’d be lying if I said Ru wasn’t upset. But that’s only because you hit a few bull’s-eyes.’

He was touched. ‘Am I crazy, to be worried sick about her?’

‘No. I am too, rather.’ Nancy opened the door wider.
She
could not let him go yet. ‘Come on in. Have some tea.’

‘Thanks, I’d love to.’ He seemed relieved. Nancy wondered what sort of reception he had expected.

He followed her down the passage to the kitchen. Nancy was aware of his glancing round, taking in the general dilapidation but making a genuine effort not to pass judgement. Incredibly, he appeared to have listened to the terrible things (Nancy had not been told the details) that Rufa had said during their quarrel.

‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Do you fancy something to eat?’

‘No thanks.’ Watching her curiously, as if he did not know what to make of her away from Melismate, he sat down.

‘In that case, you’ll have to excuse me while I stuff myself with toasted cheese.’ Nancy said. ‘I’m off to work in a minute.’

‘You’ve got a job?’

‘Didn’t Mum tell you?’

Edward said, ‘To tell the truth, I haven’t been near Melismate since Rufa and I— since the last time I was here.’

‘Oh.’ Nancy grated cheese, not knowing what to say. Edward was a fixture at Melismate. Rose complained about his interference, but it would never have occurred to her to wish him away. She relied on him far too much. They all did. ‘Ru really got to you, didn’t she?’

‘I certainly didn’t come here to accuse her,’ he said, bristling again. ‘If she “got to me”, as you put it, I deserved it.’

Nancy knew what the Man would have said, and found herself saying it. ‘Look, Edward – sackcloth suits you, but don’t get carried away. I haven’t time to stand
here
disagreeing while you heap blame on yourself. It’ll put me off my tea.’

She saw his second of recognition, remembrance and grief, before he relaxed back into a laugh. ‘All right. Tell me about this job of yours.’

‘Well, as I said to Rufa, there’s always gainful employment for an experienced barmaid.’ Seeing Edward was genuinely interested and prepared to be amused, Nancy told him about Forbes & Gunning. She could not help embellishing the story, as the Man would have done, and throwing in a superb impersonation of her boss. Edward rewarded her by laughing again – he had always loved to hear the Man’s stories. Nancy saw that he needed the Man’s way of turning life into a mad soap opera every bit as much as Linnet (and Rufa) needed the saga of the Ressanies. She ached for the Man, and the gap he had left like an open wound.

Once Nancy was settled at the table, with a cup of tea and a plate of oozing toasted cheese, Edward said, with an effort, ‘I really upset Ru, didn’t I?’

‘She was devastated. I found her crying her eyes out. You know how she always wants the grown-ups to approve of her.’

‘Hmm. Do you think she’d let me see her, so I can show her how sorry I am?’

‘Of course she’ll see you,’ Nancy said. ‘She forgave you ages ago.’

‘Will she be back soon? I mean, will I be a nuisance, if I wait for her?’

Nancy thought his new sensitivity deserved a reward – and she was dying to hear Rufa’s reaction to the transformation. ‘She’s over at Berry’s. His girlfriend’s
having
a dinner party, and Ru’s doing the cooking. 8b Pemberton Villas, off the Fulham Road.’

‘Will she mind my just turning up there?’

Rufa would mind, Nancy realized. Adrian was to be present at Polly’s dinner party, and the momentous trip to Paris was scheduled for the following weekend. Rufa would not care to have Edward turning up at this critical stage. But sod that, Nancy thought suddenly – it might be the saving of her earnest, hurtable sister.

‘I don’t care if she minds. See if you can stop her marrying Adrian.’

This was the first time Edward had heard the name of Rufa’s target. His eyes narrowed warily. ‘Who?’

The time had come, Nancy decided, to let him have the whole truth, served without one speck of Hasty bullshit. ‘He’s called Adrian Mecklenberg. He’s filthy rich, and cold as an icicle. She can’t marry him, Edward. She’s not remotely in love with him – though she’s trying to kid herself that she is. Well, you know her. You know what a talent she has for making herself miserable.’

He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, I suppose so. And you’re sure she’s not— she doesn’t care for this man?’

Only afterwards did Nancy realize there was something odd about the deliberate way he put this question. ‘Positive. She’s not fooling me – she’s only doing all this because she just assumes she’ll never be happy again. She thinks staying at Melismate is the best she has to hope for.’

‘You’re worried about her too, aren’t you?’

‘What d’you think I’m doing here?’ Nancy demanded. ‘I couldn’t let her come to London alone, could I? She’s the type to die of a broken heart – sometimes I wonder if that’s actually what she’s doing. I
can’t
watch her marrying that man, and killing herself by inches.’ She was pouring this out like a confession. She had turned Queen’s evidence, and grassed Rufa up to the authorities, and it was a huge relief. ‘Someone’s got to stop her throwing her life away, and she might just listen to you. If you can make her admit this Marrying Game is a load of crap, you’ll be doing us all a favour.’

Edward said, ‘I’ll do my best.’

Rufa thought it appropriate that Polly had a ‘galley’ kitchen – she certainly worked her employees like galley slaves. All we need, she thought, is a surly man in a vest banging a drum, to keep us all in rhythm. The Colombian cleaning lady and a stout Spanish waitress were being lashed round the flat by Polly’s high-pitched commands. Mindful that Rufa was the next Mrs Mecklenberg, Polly was more gracious to her, and disguised her orders as sweet requests. Could she slice the smoked goose more thinly? Could she wash the rocket leaves in Evian, not tap water? Weren’t the filo parcels too small? Would she mind wiping her fingerprints off the stainless steel fridge? Rufa had met some hysterical hostesses in her time, but was amazed that any human being could make this much song and dance about a dinner party. She wanted to like Polly, because she liked Berry, but it was an uphill struggle.

She sliced and stirred, and fielded Polly’s intrusions, tense and clumsy with anxiety. The anxiety bit a little deeper with every passing day. She could not make Nancy see how desperate things were getting at Melismate. The nightly conversations with Rose were catalogues of doom. They had had final warnings from
the
telephone and water companies. The ceiling had fallen down in the only leak-proof spare bedroom. Marrying Adrian, as quickly as possible, was Rufa’s – everyone’s – only hope.

Her family seemed to be disintegrating along with the house. Selena had dropped out of school. She refused to take her exams, and hung about all day, sulking and rereading Sidney’s
Arcadia
. Rufa was in despair. Why, when she read all those turgid books for fun, wouldn’t she do it at a university? And why couldn’t Rose summon the energy to lay down the law, and bloody well make Selena go back to St Hildegard’s? Rufa, Nancy and Lydia had attended this excellent girl’s public day school on the remnants of an impregnable family trust the Man had never been able to rob. Selena had been awarded a scholarship, like a gift from heaven, after the trust ran out. If Rufa had been at Melismate, she would not have given her ungrateful little sister a minute’s peace. She would have driven her to school, bound and gagged if necessary, and hauled her into classes by her hair.

Rose was preoccupied with Lydia, the daughter who most resembled her physically, and baffled her mentally. Ran was still alone at Semple Farm, and foolish Lydia was spinning away into realms of pointless hope. Both Rufa and Rose were afraid Ran would succumb to those great, lovesick blue eyes and sleep with Lydia – and then where would they be, when he inevitably took up with someone else?

Rose had said, ‘She must be an imbecile. Even Linnet knows he’s only single because he’s already been through every available woman for miles around.’

Rufa longed to be at home, to massage some sense into
her
besotted sister. Lydia lived at a dreamy adagio, and had to be treated very gently. Rose was too impatient with her, and too insulting about Ran. In the meantime, if she sent them some of the money she was making from her dinner parties, would they use it to pay the bills, or would they fritter it away on gin? In the past, she had always been able to rely on Edward – she would never have left for London if she had not known he was nearby, permanently ready to avert catastrophe. Since their last meeting, however, Edward had not been near Melismate. Nobody had seen him, and nobody knew where he was. Rufa felt wretched about this. She desperately missed his comforting presence, and hated herself for scaring off the family safety net. Rose flatly refused to approach Edward for help – ‘I’ll eat a turd on toast first.’ It all hung on the Marrying Game now. If Adrian did not marry her, what was to become of them all?