The Winter Folly (34 page)

Her imagination began supplying stories for Alex: her husband was unfaithful, he had hundreds of affairs under her nose and she couldn’t stand it . . . Or some of the guests brought
hallucinogenic drugs to their parties and persuaded Alex to try some, and under the influence she attempted to fly from the top of the folly . . . Or . . .

None of them quite worked. None were convincing.

She felt restless, her curiosity unassuaged, and turned back to the microfiche with the sudden thought that there might be a local report of Alexandra’s wedding. She decided to start
looking from the month after Laurence Sykes’ death – surely they would not have married sooner than that – but throughout the next few months there was nothing about the Stirlings
at all. She realised that the library was closing in a few minutes so she broke her rule and skipped forward a year. Then, at last, she saw something. It was a tiny piece but it said that Lady
Northmoor had attended a coffee morning in aid of the village hall, accompanied by her one-year-old son, the Hon. John Stirling, who had charmed everyone. There was a grainy picture that was almost
impossible to make out but it seemed to be a woman holding a baby.

‘How annoying,’ she said out loud. She wanted to see Alex with little John.

‘I’m so sorry but we’re closing.’ The librarian was back, a sympathetic but firm expression on her face. ‘You’ll have to finish there today.’

‘Okay. Thanks. It’s been really useful,’ she said, switching off the light box and returning the film to the folder. ‘I’ll be back.’

‘Good. We’re happy to help.’

It was only in the car on the way home that it occurred to her that she should not have spent her time looking for the evidence of Laurence Sykes’ existence. She should have skipped
forward in time and looked at 1974, to search for anything she could find about Alexandra’s death. She felt cross with herself. She’d let her encounter with Grace Urquhart divert her
from discovering what she really wanted to know.

I’ll come back as soon as I can and look again
, she promised herself.

When she got home, she felt hot and sticky. A headache pounded behind her eyes, brought on from peering into the white light and reading blurred text. She went upstairs and got
changed into her bikini, slipped a loose Indian tunic over the top, scooped up a towel and strolled down to the pool. Its unheated waters usually looked icy and uninviting but today the cool
sparkle of turquoise looked refreshing. She took off the tunic and plunged in, relishing the shock of cold that juddered her body and made her heart pound. She swam strong and hard for several
lengths, revelling in the feeling of being shut off from the world in her own private place, concentrating on pushing through the water and breathing at the right time. After twenty minutes’
hard swimming, she came to halt, holding on to the grainy concrete edge of the old pool and wiping water out of her eyes.

‘You’re a good swimmer.’

She looked up. Ben was there, smiling down at her.

‘Oh – thanks! I’m all right, a bit out of practice.’ She felt vulnerable in the water, barely dressed, while he stood there looking. ‘I’m going to get out
now, I think.’

She swam to the shallow end and climbed up the steps. Ben had come round and was waiting for her, holding out her towel. As she emerged, dripping, from the water, he opened the towel to wrap
round her and said, ‘Let me.’ The next moment he’d enveloped her in it and his strong arms were closing around her. She could feel his body close to hers, and the sensation of her
naked wet flesh so near him sent a tingling bolt right through her. He began to rub gently, drying her arms and back. It gave her a feeling of uncomfortable pleasure, a physical enjoyment that her
mind could not bear.

‘Ben,’ she said in a half whisper that seemed to break over his name.

‘I’m right here,’ he said softly.

He was, she knew that. It was part of the problem. Easy, attractive, pleasant . . . he was always there to remind her how life could be away from the storms and difficulties of her marriage. But
she wasn’t ready to give up on John yet, even if the desire to surrender to Ben’s arms was growing with every moment. The atmosphere between them had changed to something unmistakeable:
the way he was so close to her, the way he was touching her. This was no act of pure friendship. There was nothing cousinly in it. A crackling tension surrounded them. She didn’t know what to
say, but only felt dimly that she needed to cling on to reason and not give in to what her body was telling her she wanted.

‘Delilah—’ he said in a low voice.

She put up a hand to stop him. ‘Don’t,’ she said pleadingly.

‘You must have guessed—’

‘Ben, I mean it,’ she said, more strongly. ‘Please don’t say anything – not yet. Not something we might both regret.’ She looked up and saw the expression in
his eyes. It made something inside her tighten and a line of electricity course down her spine and into her fingertips.

He looked agonised, as though it was taking all his strength to obey her command not to speak.

‘I have to go now,’ she said breathlessly, and pulled out of his arms.

He put out a hand to her, his fingers landing on her upper arm, and she stopped, her back to him. ‘Wait, Delilah, I have to tell you how I feel, ask you if there’s any chance that we
might—’

‘Ben, please, no . . . I can’t . . . Not yet. Please understand.’

She began to pad quickly away across the hot terrace, leaving a trail of dark splashes behind her.

‘I’ll wait for you,’ he called after her. ‘As long it takes. Until you’re ready.’

She didn’t reply but hurried to the back door, her towel pulled close around her and her head down to hide the confusion on her face. In the kitchen, Janey was cooking but Delilah did not
stop to talk to her. She needed to be alone.

1974

‘Mummy, Mummy, watch me!’

Alexandra looked up, half paying attention. Elaine was on her bicycle, cycling over the uneven paving stones of the terrace. She was approaching it with gusto, pedalling hard despite the way she
wobbled. Her dark blue eyes stared intently at the ground, her tongue sticking out with the effort of keeping upright.

‘Be careful, darling. Don’t forget the brakes,’ she called as Elaine careered towards the stone balustrade, looking as though she would slam straight into it. Alexandra knew
she wouldn’t. Elaine was fearless whether she was climbing trees or swinging on ropes, and somehow always managed to emerge unscathed from her intrepid adventures. She had only recently
learned to ride the pink bike she’d been given for her birthday and had refused her stabilisers from the start, determined to ride like a big girl. She was already riding well but the fact
that her feet didn’t quite reach the ground meant that her stopping was a little erratic.

Alexandra turned back to the letter she was reading. It was from John and she found the whole thing pierced her heart.

She could hardly bear to read the messy print on the paper he’d torn out of an exercise book. She hadn’t wanted him to go away to school but Nicky had insisted. It was what was done
– he had done it, his friends had done it, and now the sons of his friends were doing it and so John would do it too. The school wasn’t far and she would see him twice every half-term
and for all of the holidays.

‘But he’s only seven!’ she had pleaded. ‘I’m not ready for him to go yet, he’s just a baby.’

‘He’ll have a marvellous time,’ Nicky had said, shrugging. ‘There’ll be hundreds of other boys just like him, games to play, tuck to eat, plenty to keep him busy.
It’s a little hard at first but I know very well that you soon get used to it. It’ll make him grow up a bit – he’ll only get babyish if he stays here with you and
Elaine.’

She had tried to make him put it off even for a year but he was immoveable. He might be a loving father but he knew how things were done and this was John’s fate.

Seeing her little boy in his school uniform, looking desperately small and frightened beside his huge trunk, had been almost too much to endure. When they had left him in his new boarding house
and driven away down the drive, his huge tear-filled eyes staring after them, she hadn’t been able to stop herself breaking down and sobbing all the way home. It went against something inside
her to be separated from John like this. Thinking of him wrenched something within her with enormous pain, not only because she missed him but because she felt she had let him down somehow and not
protected him when she should have.

Nicky tolerated her mood for the first few days but he quickly grew impatient as it showed no signs of abating. Eventually he lost his temper.

‘I’ve had enough of this stupid moping!’ he yelled. ‘We all make sacrifices, we all suffer! We just have to grit our teeth and get on with it. Do you think I wanted to
give up everything I had and come here? I didn’t have a choice, I just did it.’

‘What did you give up?’ she asked, incredulous.

‘My career in photography,’ he shot back.

‘But . . . you got
this.
’ She waved an arm at the house and towards the window where the green parkland stretched away. ‘And you’ve got me and the children.
Aren’t we enough?’

He gave her a scornful look. ‘You don’t understand,’ he said. ‘There was more to my life than this once.’

‘Then why do you have to make John suffer in the same way you did? Why can’t he be free of it all?’

‘Because he can’t,’ Nicky replied. ‘It was his bad luck to be born to it, just as it was mine, and that means he has to do what I did. That’s all there is to
it.’

It was their first real rift since they’d been married and Alexandra was made quite desperate by the sense that she and Nicky were growing apart. They’d been so
happy since the children had come along – at least, she thought they had. Had he really been yearning for the city life, and all the girls, and his old studio in London? Had their happiness
been an illusion? It seemed particularly terrible that they were at odds over one of the people they treasured most in the world.

Elaine wouldn’t be sent away, Alex was determined about that. At least there was no tradition that girls had to leave home so young. She would go to the local school with all the other
children, leave in the morning and come home to her mother in the afternoon. If at some later date she wanted to go to boarding school, that would be considered, but not when she was so little. She
kept Elaine close to her, as though the little girl could numb the pain of being away from John, but she always felt his absence keenly.

Gradually the chill between her and Nicky began to ease off and they moved back towards each other, both having missed the intimate companionship they usually shared. He started to make love to
her more than he had for a while, seeking her out in the darkness, his hand creeping warm and smooth to her soft breast and then his lips finding hers. She surrendered to it gratefully, taking
comfort from his body and the strength of his embrace. She knew that he was trying to give her another baby. Perhaps that would help – if there were another and another and another to replace
the ones he sent away. But there was no sign of a baby yet.

When John came home for the holidays, she raced out to meet the car that had collected him, her arms open wide. He came running to her, his cap flying off onto the gravel, and jumped into her
embrace. She kissed him, laughing joyfully, but he felt different: bonier and longer somehow. The texture of his hair was just a little coarser under her lips and in his eyes there was something
else besides excitement and joy at seeing her again. There was a look of experience she had never seen before and, more than that, she thought she saw reproach. But when she asked if he was
unhappy, he said airily, ‘Oh no, I like school very much. I can’t wait to go back actually.’

She ought to have been glad and yet she wondered what he’d endured alone to get through the misery those plaintive little letters had been drenched with.

‘Nanny, where’s Elaine?’

Alexandra came striding into the hallway where she had heard Elaine’s voice only a few minutes before.

‘She’s gone out to ride her bike, ma’am,’ Nanny said, pulling on her coat. ‘She hurried off when I said she could, went round to the garages to get it. I’m
just going out after her.’

‘Make sure she keeps warm, won’t you?’ Alexandra reached for her own coat. ‘I’m driving into the village. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Perhaps
I’ll be back for lunch. Will you make sure Elaine has the chicken? I’m sure she’s not quite over that cold yet and I do want her to get her strength back.’ She stopped and
looked at Nanny. ‘In fact, I’m not sure she should be out at all. A quiet day in the nursery might be better.’

‘Now, ma’am,’ said Nanny soothingly, pulling on a pair of gloves, ‘a bit of fresh air will do her good. I’ll keep her well wrapped up – she’s in her
purple coat. Some exercise for an hour or so, and then we’ll go back in for lunch and she can play with that new doll of hers she’s so crazy about.’

‘Oh, yes. That. All right. But if she seems too cold, do bring her in.’ She looked about her in distraction for the car keys, found a set in the Chinese bowl on the side table and
hurried outside. As she went, she checked her pocket for the letter that had come that morning from Aunt Felicity.