Almost a Crime (87 page)

faith in herself, something that meant she could face Tom,

bid farewell to him and her marriage feeling desirable and fearless again, but a sad shadow of a love affair. Suddenly,

foolishly, she missed Gabriel, in spite of everything: wanted

him back with her. They had parted, tenderly, quite

cheerfully, even, at the airport; he had promised to ring her

in a few weeks.

‘Not too soon, it might be painful. But after that: well, I

hope we can be friends. And there’s Bartles Wood to settle,

of course.’

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘And one day I’d like to meet your dad. Your legendary

dad.’

‘I won’t say you’d like him, because you probably

wouldn’t.’

‘I thought you adored him?’

‘I do. But he is very - difficult.’

‘And - good luck with everything. With Tom …”

‘You mean the divorce.’

‘Yes, all right. With the divorce.’

So foolish: his insistence that she still loved Tom. Absurd. A measure of their incompatibility really.

‘Well - thank you, Octavia. For a lovely week.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ she had said, laughing.

‘I do. There were lovely bits, every day. And whatever I

said, Barbados is a much more interesting and beautiful

place than I imagined. Like you,’ he had added.

His words came back to her now and she felt very near to

tears. Don’t, Octavia, just don’t. Don’t be silly.

She pushed the rest of her washing into the basket and

went downstairs. Tom was waiting for her with a large pot

of coffee and some orange juice.

‘Here you are. The coffee’s really strong.’

‘Thank you. I wish Minty would come back. I missed

her so much. And I miss the twins. Any news from them?’

‘No, they haven’t rung. They’ll be home on Friday.’

‘Yes.’

‘So — it was a success, was it?’

‘Yes, of course it was,’ she said, irritable at the implication. ‘The weather was perfect and I saw lots of friends.’

‘Sounds good. Did you go to Crane?’

‘Of course.’ He always liked Crane best; they had once

made love there early in their marriage, in the small beach

beyond the bay, in the shelter of a cave. She could

remember it still, so vividly; they had been surfing, riding

the waves, laughing as they were swept in on them, and

afterwards he had looked at her as they lay exhausted on the

hot white sand and leaned over and kissed her and said,

‘Come on, let’s go for a walk.’ She had known what he

meant, had felt a stab of pleasure, of anticipation and had

taken his hand and they had run along the beach,

scrambling over the rocks and the rough steps at the end,

and into the next cove, grateful for its frantic

now for each other. They had gone into a small cave,

tearing off their clothes, lain down on the damp sand, and

she had taken him into her at once, into her wet, greedy

self, the taste and sound of the sea mingling with the taste of

Tom and the sound of her own pleasure, looking out from

the cave afterwards at the dazzling, blazing sky, watching

the waves rising, gathering, breaking, just like her own

orgasm, thinking she had never been so happy.

She looked up at Tom now, met his eyes; he was reliving

it too, she could see, and she felt awkward, discomfited by

the shared, vivid memory, of the pleasure, the happiness,

the desire for one another, sex by proxy, remembering too

his words after that, knowing he would be remembering

them too. ‘I shall never forget this,’ he had said, kissing her

bare breasts, ‘never, as long as I live, and no matter what

happens to us.’ And it was if she was naked there in front of

him now, pleasured by him, not neatly dressed for Sunday

breakfast, not hating him, not betrayed by him at all.

‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. And how was Elvira?’

‘Fine. She sent her love.’ She was back in the kitchen

now, hating him; even passing someone else’s love on was

difficult, she didn’t want to do it.

‘Thank you.’

‘So what have you been doing? Given that you weren’t

in Tuscany. So silly, me thinking that.’

‘Extremely silly,’ he said.

‘Not that it really mattered.’

‘Didn’t it?’

There was something in his voice that startled her:

something raw, something angry.

‘It mattered to me, Octavia. It mattered a lot. That you

should think I would have - well, I was very upset about it.’

‘I’m very sorry you were upset,’ she said and her voice

was harsh. That he should complain that a suspicion of hers

should be unfounded, that he should be upset. When—

‘I still don’t know quite how it happened,’ he said.

‘No, nor do I.’

‘I tried to ring you,’ he said, ‘that morning. The morning

you left.’

‘Where were you?’

‘In a hotel,’ he said and his eyes were almost amused.

‘With Bob Macintosh and the worst hangover I can ever

remember.’

‘Oh, Tom, really.’

‘I got drunk because it was so bloody awful, seeing them

go off without me.’

‘Who, Lauren you mean?’ It was petty, she knew, but

she couldn’t help it.

‘No, not Lauren, Octavia. I keep telling you, I don’t

even like Lauren.’

‘You were with her the night before you — she — went

away,’ she said and her voice was rather loud.

‘Yes, I know, I know I was. But I was only swimming

with her, for God’s sake.’

‘Swimming! Tom, as stories go, that’s not very clever. I’d

have thought you could do better than that.’

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake,’ he said wearily, ‘this is ridiculous.’

‘Yes, I quite agree with you. Totally ridiculous. Anyway,

I don’t care what you were doing with Lauren, not really.

Whatever it was, it hardly compares with what you did

with Louise, does it? With my best friend?’

‘No, Octavia, it doesn’t. God, do we have to have it all

over again, so soon? When you’ve just got back. I was

hoping we could be at least civilised about it all.’

‘Nothing could please me more,’ she said, ‘than a little

civilisation in our relationship. Unfortunately—’

He sighed. ‘Octavia,’ he said, ‘I would like to get one

thing at least cleared up. I did try to ring you before you

went away. Over and over again. Here. In the morning.’

‘Yes, well, I was at my father’s house. We were only here

for about ten minutes. The taxi came at eight fifteen.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘yes, I’ve worked that out now.’

‘How?’

‘Because I spoke to him.’

‘You spoke to him?’

‘Yes. And he said you’d gone.’

‘Well, obviously I had by then.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘yes, of course you had. But then I tried to

get you on your mobile. So that I could speak to you on

your way to the airport. Let you know — well, I suppose it

doesn’t matter.’

‘My mobile! But I didn’t have it with me.’

‘No, I know you didn’t. So the bloody thing kept telling

me. Or rather that it was switched off. Octavia, you never

go anywhere without your mobile. What on earth made

you leave it behind?’

‘I couldn’t find it, the taxi was waiting.’

‘You couldn’t find it,’ he said, his voice quieter suddenly.

‘Oh, I see. Well, that’s - different. I suppose.’

‘Yes. I must find it today, actually. I hope I didn’t leave it

up in Hampstead that morning.’

‘You didn’t,’ he said.

‘I didn’t?’

‘No. It’s here. Caroline found it. In the drawer where we

keep the tea towels.’

‘Well, that’s really ridiculous. I’d never have put it there!’

‘No,’ he said, ‘no, I don’t think you would. Anyway, it

being there stopped me getting in touch with you that

morning.’

‘Yes. But it doesn’t matter, does it? I was going anyway.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said. ‘Of course you were.’

There was an extraordinary expression in his eyes as he

looked at her; sadness, despair, and something else. Anger.

But it didn’t seem to be directed at her. A strange silence

formed between them; she wanted to break it and couldn’t,

just sat there, looking at him, trying to make sense of his

mood, of what he was saying. She had just taken a deep

breath, found the courage to ask him, when the door

opened and Caroline came in with Minty in her arms, and

there was a joyful shout of ‘Mama.’

Octavia scooped her into her arms, and thought of

nothing else for several hours.

‘Daddy! How lovely to see you.’

‘It’s lovely to see you, too, darling. And you look so

much better.’

Louise smiled at him, hugged him. He was an important

part of her plan; she needed him to trust her totally. ‘I feel

so much better. They say I can go home in a week or so.’

‘A week! I didn’t think it would be that soon.’

‘Maybe a bit more than a week. But anyway. Very soon.

I went out to lunch with Sandy and Dickon yesterday, to a

pub, a real pub. It was wonderful.’

‘Good. And what does your doctor say?’

‘That I’m really much better. The pills are working

beautifully. I’m sleeping well. Going for walks every day,

with one of the nurses. All I want now is to be home again.

With Dickon and Sandy. Start leading a normal life.’

‘Darling, you mustn’t try and run before you can walk.’

‘No, I know that. But I do so want to get back to

normal. I worry about Dickon as well, he’s had such a

horrible time.’

‘Yes, he has. He’s such a fine little chap. Been so plucky

all the time you’ve been away. Sandy’s been marvellous

too. He’s a good man, Louise, you’re very lucky.’

‘I know I am. I’ll tell you what I’d really like. If they’d let

me.

‘What’s that, darling?’

‘To come and have lunch with you at Rookston. One

day next week. Do you think I could?’

‘Well, I’d love it of course. But I’d have to make sure the

doctor was happy about it.’

‘I’m sure he would be. Could you - could you ask him?’

‘Yes, darling, of course I will. It would be so nice. Janet

would be thrilled.’

‘Thank you. Thank you so much. Anyway, how are

you?’

‘I’m coping. Back at work at my little part-time job.’

Louise smiled. His little part-time job was board director

of one of the biggest stockbroking firms in the country; it

absorbed three long days a week.

‘I suppose you’ve cleared out all Mummy’s things now,’

she said after a pause, her voice wistful.

‘Not really. Still a lot of work to do there.’

‘Her clothes … ?’

‘All still there, I’m afraid. I can’t face going through

them.’

‘And - her jewellery?’ said Louise. She struggled to keep

her voice level; she was terrified it would shake, give her

away.

‘Oh, darling, I don’t know what to do with it, all the less

valuable stuff, it’s all in her—’

‘In her box?’ Still the slight tremble in her voice; still he

didn’t notice.

‘Yes. All there still.’

Thank God! She’d been half afraid that he’d have got rid

of it, emptied the wooden Victorian jewellery box that held

all Anna’s earrings, dozens of pairs, she’d been such a

magpie, mostly pearl or gold studs, her charm bracelet that

Charles had given her as a simple chain on their wedding

day and which had grown into a collection in itself forty

years later, some very expensive costume stuff, a Chanel

crucifix, a Saint Laurent brooch - and a few other things.

Things she’d treasured, wanted a safe place for: first teeth,

first bangles, rings from Woolworth’s the children had

given her for Christmas presents. And something else was in that box. Something Louise needed. The most valuable

thing of all.

‘Well,’ she said now, ‘I’d love to go through it for you.

And her clothes, of course. With you, if you like, maybe

when I come over for lunch.’

‘Darling, would you? I’d be so grateful. It wouldn’t upset

you?’

‘Not too much, I don’t think,’ said Louise. ‘And I’d like

to do it, I’d like to help you. You’ve done so much for me.

Now go and ask the doctor, see what he says. And also, ask

him if we can go out to lunch today. Tell him how well

you think I am.’

Marianne stood in the hall, waiting for Felix to appear. It

had taken all her courage to do this, to come to the house;

to make the phone call even, inviting herself over. He had

been pleasant, but no more; had suggested a drink before

Sunday lunch. No mention of lunch itself. It was not

exactly encouraging.

‘Marianne, good morning.’

‘Hallo, Felix.’ He looked perfectly normal. She had half

expected him to have changed, that he would be drawn,

thinner, pale, but he looked as near to cheerful as his

brooding face would allow, and perfectly well. She felt

rather foolish suddenly; clearly, she had been flattering

herself.

‘It’s very nice to see you,’ he said stiffly.

‘It’s nice to see you, Felix.’

‘Do come in. Drink?’

‘Nothing alcoholic. I’m driving. But I’d like a coffee.’

‘Yes, of course. I’ll go and organise one. Go into the

drawing room.’

‘Yes. Thank you.’

The papers were all over the coffee table; the Sunday

Times and the Observer were both open at the financial