Acts of Love (27 page)

‘The media? What if they should get hold of this?’

‘It’s up to you to see that they don’t. Remember I don’t want him identified. Not for the moment. The world believes he was dead and buried years ago. You use any false name he gives, and get him travel documents, a passport, under it.’

‘How are you so sure he won’t give his own name?’

‘Pretty certain. He didn’t give it to Mike.’

‘Good point. You think he wants to be left as missing or dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’ll allow that?’

‘For the moment.’

The Rolls was just circling the Place de la Concorde. The men were silent, their business concluded. Ahmad placed a cigarette in his holder and Jim gave him a light. He offered Jim a cigar from a box he took from a compartment next to the one he had withdrawn the money from. A cigar-cutter appeared from his waistcoat pocket. When they pulled up to the Crillon, where Jim had asked to be dropped off, Ahmad asked, ‘Are you staying here, Jim?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long will you be in Paris?’

‘Not sure. A couple of days anyway.’

Jim got out of the car. Leaning on the door, he eyed Ahmad through the open window. ‘I’ll be in touch.’ Jim shoved a hand through the window and the two men shook hands.

‘Your firm has done a remarkable job for me, Jim. I am very grateful to you. Most especially for keeping the entire investigation secret and my part in it confidential. I am not unappreciative. I did promise you a bonus – I would like to have it delivered to you. Shall we say this evening?’

The seductive charm in the man’s eyes held Jim. Subtle, exciting corruption titillated. ‘What time?’ Ahmad asked.

The sweet smell of success permeated Jim’s soul. To tip-toe through the tulips with the devil in Paris in the Spring – who would want to pass up that? The libido sang a happy tune. Jim told him the time.

Chapter 18

Ben stopped the car. He and Arianne got out to watch Artemis cantering across the fields towards the lake, Anson keeping up right next to her. They were a handsome sight astride two magnificent stallions with the parkland as backdrop.

Arianne had known, since a child, that Artemis, rotten mother as she was, was also something special. Today, in the May sunshine with the park bursting with new life, seeing those two elderly people still with a grip on life and ready to run with it, Arianne realised how grateful she was to a mother who had never pretended to be anything other than what she was. Suppose she had not left her husband and child, but had remained with them, a miserable creature imparting to them guilt and remorse for tying her to a family ethic she despised: Arianne would have suffered for it.

This was the first time she would be seeing Artemis since before Christmas. No phone calls, no letters or cards had come from her mother. But Arianne had expected none. Ben had his arm around Arianne’s shoulder. She leaned in to him, their eyes still following his uncle and her mother, and said, ‘Ben, I don’t want to tell Artemis about us. Not until after we’re married.’

They had come to Chessington Park to see their respective relatives and to tell them their happy news. They would ask Artemis and Anson to be best man and matron of honour at their wedding, which was to be at Ben’s château in France. They had been talking about it for weeks.

‘That does rather change our plans.’

‘Do you mind?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t you want an explanation?’

‘I’m sure you have good reason.’

By now they were looking at each other. There was no sadness
in her eyes, no emotion in her voice. That was good enough for Ben: just so long as Arianne was not upset about anything, and life was still sweet for them. Arianne put her arms around his neck and reached up to place a seductive kiss upon his lips. With his hands on her waist, he slowly raised her from the ground. He liked the feel of Arianne against his body. He bit passionately into her lips; her lips parted and she licked the roof of his mouth with her tongue. Her kisses were electric. He slipped his hands under her knitted jumper and held her that way against him; hands caressing her naked back.

In the weeks that had passed since the first night they had had sex, Ben had become erotically besotted with Arianne. They were creating an erotic life together he had never imagined possible with one woman. They had become sexual adventurers. They had fallen in love, had wanted to be together, before they discovered what a powerful lust drew them to each other. Love and a mutual passion for unbridled sex made their relationship one of complete trust in one another. Their togetherness was always new, fresh and exciting. Utterly stable. What need had he for an explanation? If that was what Arianne wanted – not to tell Artemis about them or their plans – it had to be right for all concerned.

Arianne withdrew her lips from his and began kissing him crazily all over his face. She bit Ben on his ear so hard that he winced and put her down. Artemis, wedding plans, all else vanished from their minds. Desire was taking over. The passion of love, sexual hunger. Taking her by the hand, he pulled Arianne from the drive several feet into the wood. Then, leaning her against a huge and very old chestnut tree in full bloom, he raised her jumper to expose her breasts to his mouth. He sucked on her nipples while he caressed them. She squirmed with pleasure, and was unable to restrain her sighs of satisfaction or to hold back anything from Ben. She raised her skirt. ‘If anyone from the house sees us …’ he said, obviously not caring in the least: he was pushing his penis slowly into her yearning cunt, and relishing the woman he loved. Arianne wrapped her legs around him and he stepped back from the tree. His kisses resumed an urgency and passion that kindled a fire in them. Arianne was doing the thrusting, moving on and off Ben’s cock, an act of
intercourse that drove them into orgasm.

Arianne could hardly calm her breathing after he had laid her down in the grass under the tree and was caressing her hair, her face, whispering, ‘I love you. I never knew I had so much love in me, that I could love you so much.’ His words could have been hers; she could have echoed them. Those were her feelings too. Lying together in each other’s arms, recovering from a breathlessly exciting intercourse, she listened to him tell her, ‘No woman has ever given herself so completely to me. Have you any idea what that means to a man, to have a woman just give her whole being up to him? Every fuck with you is like the first time. Always when it’s over, it’s not over. My body, my heart, my head is always telling me there’s more, always more. We’ve yet to begin. All this and love, deep and abiding …’

Arianne stopped Ben by placing a hand across his mouth. She smiled at him. ‘I love you, Ben. These last few weeks together have been a revelation for me. I loved Jason, and we had a marvellous marriage, but I feel a different person with you. The love I have for you is different. Without betraying his memory, I must admit that our love is more profound. There are things about you that bring out similar things in myself. Things that have been lying dormant. Things that add strength to my character. These last years of widowhood have taught me to be my own woman, an independent creature. Meeting and falling in love with you has altered my feelings about being a woman. I think of being your wife, and of the life we’re going to create together, and it seems to have to do with having children, being there for them, being flexible and supporting you and loving you well. But loving you has also taught me to keep my experience, my own separateness alive. I should have learned those things from Artemis. She practised them, and still does. She has showed me those things all my life. I simply never got the message. I did from loving you. I love you, Ben. I love you. And I feel so lucky to be marrying you.’

They were somehow embarrassed by their emotional outbursts and covered it by silence and merely sitting together, holding hands, under the chestnut tree. Occasionally Ben would reach out to remove a blossom from Arianne’s hair. It was some time before he asked, ‘Shall we walk together? The wood is so lovely.
Look at the sunlight filtering down through the branches.’

He helped Arianne up and they adjusted each other’s clothing, making themselves presentable for Chessington Park and anyone they might come across. ‘Think of the scandal if someone saw us in the throes of lust. Do you think they would ban us from visiting the house, walking the grounds?’ Ben teased.

‘They’d probably call a general meeting of the house to vote on it.’

Ben began to laugh. ‘No, they would wait for an AGM and make it mandatory that no one fucks in the park. A house rule, citing us as an example.’

‘But,’ a now-amused Arianne added, ‘Beryl Quilty would have called an emergency meeting of the Executive House Committee, to see that we were put on remand forthwith, issued with a formal letter, until an AGM decided what to do about lust and love in the park.’

They were still laughing when they returned to where the car was parked in a bay on the drive. They leaned against the car, still holding hands, somehow reluctant now to approach the house. Arianne said, ‘About Artemis?’

‘What about Artemis, Arianne?’

‘Artemis and I, we love each other, but it’s a strange kind of love. Not at all your average mother-daughter relationship. Strangely, it might be something very much closer than that. I don’t know, and I doubt that Artemis does. And it doesn’t matter. You see, we never get involved with each other’s lives. When I was a child we did superficially, for those Christmas, Easter or summer holidays. They were my annual pilgrimage to Artemis. But when we were apart, nothing. And that’s the way it is with us now. Artemis is uninterested in my life or what I do. When I make these visits here, she never asks about it – no more than I ask about hers. It’s strange, but it’s that lack of interest that binds us together. You see, we have never impinged on each other’s lives. Artemis would hate to be involved with our wedding plans. I got swept away on the idea that she would, because I was so happy, and the château is so beautiful – she would like the château and vineyard. You mustn’t think that she would not be happy for my happiness, because she would. She would merely not express it. I am no different with her. Ours is a cold kind of
love. But it has worked for us.’

‘How about we call off the big wedding at the château that we were planning?’

‘Oh, Ben. Would you mind?’

‘Not if that’s what you want.’

‘We could still have a huge and very grand party there sometime after we’ve been married.’

‘Yes, that might be better. A party not fraught with emotion, the inevitable at large weddings. We can have an intimate, romantic wedding, just you and I. Would you like that?’ he asked, kissing Arianne affectionately on the lips.

‘Yes. Very much.’ The relief Arianne felt was enormous. Being swept up in love and their plans for a future together, she had not realised how much anxiety she had about a large wedding. She had not been aware until now when it was cancelled that she had actually felt an irrational fear about it – that the past would suddenly loom up and ruin her wedding day. The very thought of it sent a shiver through her.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ben asked.

‘Nothing, just a chill, no more than that.’

At the front door Arianne and Ben parted company. He went to his uncle’s, Arianne to Artemis’s door. Arianne could hear the faint sound of a piano. Artemis. She rang the bell and the door swung open. Hadley greeted her.

‘Good to see you, Hadley.’

‘It’s good to see you, madam.’

‘Did my mother have a good holiday?’

‘Yes, she seemed to enjoy herself.’

‘And her health?’

‘Now or then, madam?’

‘Both, I think.’

‘You will find her as usual, in good form. We had a rather “off” period of about two weeks, but she rallied and came back to us, good as a shiny penny, madam.’ All this was in whispers in the small hall that was closed off from the drawing room. Butler and daughter understood these clandestine conversations were necessary if Arianne were to know anything about her mother’s mental health. He opened the door to the drawing room. Arianne entered the room.

Artemis was looking marvellous, still dressed in her riding clothes and playing beautifully. Schubert. Arianne leaned against the piano and smiled at her mother. Artemis smiled back. ‘Well, you look jolly nice. Happy.’

‘You too, Artemis.’

Artemis continued playing. She looked up from the keyboard to gaze at Arianne. ‘I do like to look at you when you’re well turned out and happy.’

Then it was back to concentrating on her playing. When she stopped, concentration focused on a Kir Royale that Hadley had brought on a silver salver. She remained seated on the piano bench. ‘Had a really good ride this morning. Enjoyed myself thoroughly and so did the dogs.’

‘Where are the dogs?’

‘Getting some of the mud off them.’ Just then, on cue and unmuddied, they came bounding into the room. They were all over Arianne and Artemis with paws and wet tongues. The two women laughed, then with several sharp words settled them down. ‘We were going to have lunch in the summerhouse, but frankly, the wind has the tiniest of a nip to it. So I changed plans. We’ll lunch in my dining room: I have invited Sir Anson and his nephew to join us.’

Did she know? How did she guess? Coincidence? went through Arianne’s mind. Of course she didn’t know that Ben and she were together. And did it matter, anyway? Arianne nearly told Artemis about herself and Ben right then and there. She was stopped by Artemis speaking first.

‘Anson had asked us to dine in the members’ dining room, but frankly I was in no mood today to share the premises with any of the residents. They are as silly as ever. Downright stupid sometimes.’

‘I’m beginning to understand them, Artemis – how they can be annoying with their petty possessiveness about this place.’

‘Well, if truth be told, I am pretty possessive about it myself. The place does get to one.’

‘But never petty, Artemis. No one could call you petty. Nor an interfering woman.’

‘I should hope not. I take it you have been here while I was away and crossed swords with them?’ The mischievous in
Artemis came to the fore. She seemed to delight in the idea. She all but giggled. ‘Ghastly lot.’

‘Maybe you should move rather than put up with them and their interminable committees and vain attempts to make a community of themselves.’

‘No. I’m here till the end. No more moves for me. They will simply have to tolerate me.’

‘Why?’

Artemis walked to the fireplace and leaned against it. ‘Old age. Security. I feel secure here from burglars, the world in general. I’m fighting the good fight against old age and the winding down, just like they are. That’s about the only thing I have in common with them. And, believe me, that’s a great deal. I like Chessington Park, I can afford it financially and emotionally. I have the horses and the parkland, the great hall when I want to give a mini-opera or a concert for my friends. There’s a restaurant to entertain in, room for staff, and I can live in a style that has always been my custom and not be diminished by time. It’s a hell of a thing to admit, but I’m better off here than anywhere else.’

‘Does Sir Anson feel the same?’

‘You’ll have to ask him.’

Clearly Artemis had gone off the subject. Arianne felt disturbed that Artemis’s life should be winding down when hers was just beginning all over again. But that was a fact. If Artemis could face the facts of her life, so would Arianne. It was what was happening to her mother and the other residents at Chessington House. Each was handling it as best they could. Declining years were bringing out the best and the worst in them all. Old age, the great revealer of character. Artemis was right – she generally was on her own interests. Chessington Park and the house were a relatively safe haven for her. Arianne cheered herself up with the knowledge that the park and the Tudor stately home and Artemis would always rise above the mundane in life. It wasn’t so much that the others in the house appeared to be the dross, but that Artemis was the gold.