Heartbreaker (34 page)

VIII

The butler, on the look-out for us in the hall, led the way into a reception room where a fire flickered beneath a marble chimneypiece. Sir Colin was just asking what we wanted to drink when he received word that a call he had been expecting had come through; excusing himself, he left the room, and the butler followed him after distributing some champagne.

“Thank God!” exclaimed Gavin as soon as the three of us were alone together. “Now I can talk! Listen, I sell gym equipment to health clubs— remember, Carta? That was my line at Richard’s funeral and that’s the line I told Colin I’d take this weekend. Colin doesn’t know you know I’m a leisure-worker. He’s going to present me as his second cousin’s son who’s interested in a new sales career in one of the divisions of RCPP. He thinks I met you both—
both,
Carta—for the first time at Richard’s funeral, and he thinks you believe the flat in Austin Friars is my home.”

Confronted by so many lies stacked up like a house of cards it was hard to know what to say which wasn’t judgemental, but I tried quoting: “ ‘O, what a tangled web we weave!’ ” and made sure my smile was chilly.

However, Nicholas was not prepared to accept this multiple deception with any kind of smile, and despite all the talk of affirming Gavin he now had no hesitation in being critical.

“I dislike lies, Gavin,” he said strongly, “and I’ll go along with these only because I’ve no wish to be unkind to our host by exposing the deception. And while we’re on the subject of deception, why didn’t you tell Carta you’d be here? You did us no favours by failing to let us know.”

Gavin took a gulp of champagne and tried to be truculent. “What does it matter to you,” he said, “whether I’m here or not?”

“Think about it. You’re an intelligent man. Just think.”

I saw how Gavin was affirmed by the word “intelligent” even as his behaviour was condemned, but before I could find the words which would place me in the same frame, Gavin said rapidly: “Okay, I’m sorry, but I thought that if I told you I was coming you’d cancel and that might affect the donation.”

At once Nicholas said: “Why exactly
are
you here? Your manager never normally insists on weekend escort work, does she?”

“Colin’s paying a lot of money.”

“No doubt, but since I’m sure he’s not the first millionaire who’s been prepared to shell out for weekend escort duty, I still want to know why he’s the one who gets what he wants. Come on, Gavin! After landing us in all these lies, don’t you think you owe us a slice of truth?”

Gavin hesitated but only for a second. “A friend of my manager’s wants Colin to join a private club which needs a financial boost. So when Colin invites me here Elizabeth says he has to be humoured.”

“What’s this club called?”

“Dunno.”

“Who’s your manager’s friend?”

“Some suit or other. Hey, don’t mention this to Colin whatever you do! He may not know about the club yet and if he finds out ahead of time Elizabeth’ll know I’ve grassed and then I’ll be in deep shit.”

Nicholas suddenly gave him a warm smile. “You remind me of a character in a John le Carré novel,” he said. “One of those spies who gets himself tied up in such a knot that he can’t work out how to come in from the cold.”

I saw Gavin smile back, basking in the sympathy Nicholas was projecting, but all he said was: “My dad liked John le Carré’s books.”

At that point Sir Colin returned to the room and we were obliged to sink into half an hour’s small-talk before lunch, but my thoughts were skimming round and round in my brain like racing greyhounds. I was thinking: so Elizabeth’s using Gavin to hook for a private club. And Kim was lured into a secret, pseudo-religious society by Mrs. Mayfield, although that particular group wasn’t just for gays. If I could somehow prove the organisations were one and the same . . . but how could I, when I had never known the name of Kim’s corrupt society which had peddled a perverted form of Gnosticism?

Pushing aside my obsession with the past, I willed myself to focus on the present.

IX

I thought Sir Colin might ask Nicholas questions about St. Benet’s during lunch, but he merely talked at mind-numbing length about the recession, the ERM disaster and the impact on the City of the latest bombing strikes by the IRA. By the time lunch ended I was exhausted by the effort of being a good listener, and glancing at Gavin, who had long since sunk into a bored silence, I saw he was obviously wishing he was back in London.

“Now!” said Sir Colin as we drank our coffee in yet another vast reception room. “I thought I’d give you a tour of the estate in my new four-wheel-drive Mercedes—a marvellous car, drives straight up a cliff without pausing for breath and I shouldn’t be surprised if it swims too, although I confess I’ve never used it to ford a river. We’ll be back in time for tea, of course—can’t miss tea, can we?—and then I’m sure you’d like time to relax in your rooms before dinner. I’ve invited a few people to join us tonight, not many, can’t bear big dinner parties so there’ll only be nine of us altogether. The local parson’s coming, plus one of the local doctors—oh, and their wives, of course. Didn’t want Carta to be all alone when we gentlemen get to the port! There’s also another person who’ll be joining us, but he’s not a local man. The fact is, Nicholas, I want the doctor and the parson to hear you talk of your ministry so that they can give me their professional opinions afterwards. Hope you’ve no objection.”

“None at all,” responded Nicholas courteously as my heart sank at the prospect of trial by jury.

“Colin,” drawled Gavin, rousing himself from his stupor of boredom, “did you just imply the ladies wouldn’t be drinking port with us? For God’s sake, which end of the century are you living in?”

“It’s all right, Gavin,” I said quickly. “This is Colin’s house and he’s entitled to make the rules.”

“Gavin,” said Sir Colin, “you’re behaving like some immature rebel student. Stop it.”

“Sure—on condition I skip the port-drinking tonight and keep the ladies company, like a eunuch in the Ottoman Empire!”

I immediately laughed in the hope of easing the tension. “You’d make a rotten eunuch, Gavin!” I said lightly, but my heart sank when he gave me his hottest smile.

Keeping his face expressionless Sir Colin rose to his feet. “I suggest we all meet in the hall in ten minutes,” he said, and Nicholas and I, both anxious to smooth over the awkwardness, took care to respond with enthusiasm.

As we moved towards the door Gavin tried to follow us, but Sir Colin called him back.

“I can see why Gavin normally does no escort work,” murmured Nicholas to me as we emerged into the hall on our own. “He’s hopeless at it. Carta, no more remarks, please, about how Gavin would make a rotten eunuch—yes, I know you were only trying to defuse the tension, but Colin didn’t like it. If he and Gavin have another spat, stay relentlessly neutral.”

I hastily promised I would before adding: “Of course Gavin was right about all that port rubbish.”

“Of course he was, but as you yourself said, it’s Colin’s house and he’s entitled to make the rules.”

We trudged on up the grand staircase to retrieve our coats for the drive.

X

Contrary to all my expectations the weekend then started to be enjoyable. The Mercedes romped off the road onto cart-tracks and off the cart-tracks into territory where there was no track of any kind. Up and down the valleys we plunged, in and out of the fields, around the spinneys, past clusters of megalithic stones and along flat-topped hills where amazing views stretched on all sides of us. Sir Colin, enraptured with his new toy, was as gleeful as a child on a roller coaster. Even Gavin, who started the trip slumped in the front seat, soon became animated, while Nicholas and I, side by side in the back, found ourselves reacting with a genuine enthusiasm. At four o’clock we all returned to the Hall in good spirits.

When tea was served Gavin behaved immaculately, passing around the plates of triangular sandwiches and the two varieties of cake. Betraying nothing of their relationship by so much as a flicker of an eyelash, Sir Colin largely ignored him in order to reminisce with Nicholas about the 1960s. I could see Sir Colin becoming less intimidating as they shared their middle-aged memories.

At the end of the meal he reminded us that we were now allowed time in our rooms before the next bout of socialising. “Drinks at seven,” were his parting words. “We’ll dine at quarter to eight.”

“So far so good,” muttered Nicholas to me as we once more toiled up the grand staircase. “I’ll come to see you at six-forty-five, if I may, to have a quick review of our dinner-party strategy.”

“Fine,” I agreed before we went our separate ways.

After I had had a bath I put on my robe and lounged for a while on the bed with a book which I never managed to open; my mind was too busy roaming around the past again as I tried to avoid thinking of Gavin, but at last I clambered off the bed and wedged myself into my smartest, newest, little black dress. I had just finished reapplying my make-up when I heard the knock on the door.

I glanced at my watch. Nicholas was five minutes early, but that was good. The more time we had to discuss strategy the better.

“Come in!” I called without a second thought.

The door opened.

“Hiya, Gorgeous,” said Gavin.

XI

I kept outwardly calm even though I felt as if the floor were disintegrating beneath my feet. “Oh, it’s you,” I said offhandedly, at once trying to treat him as a younger brother with tiresome habits. “I thought you were Nicholas. He’ll be here any moment for a conference.”

“Nice work if you can get it!” he teased. “How about you and I having a conference later?”

Struggling to get a grip on myself I moved sideways in order to put the armchair between us. “I don’t think you and I have anything to confer about,” I said but my voice was stiff with dread and I knew he was still in control. In despair I silently screamed to myself: younger brother,
younger brother,
YOUNGER BROTHER! But nothing, not even Lewis’s advice, switched off that erotic charge which was powering its way through my guts.

I struggled on. “Listen, sonny—” That sounded more confident. Maybe the trick was to talk to him as if he was fourteen “—if you think I’m panting to go to bed with you—” I broke off. It was because the corners of his mouth had curved fractionally, suggesting humour, heat and havoc, and as the erotic charge powered through my guts again I panicked. “Gavin—”

“Okay, Golden Girl, no need to get stressed out—I’m not going to rip your sexy dress off just yet! I’ll come back later when the old fart’s snoring loud enough to bust a window. Oh, and don’t get stressed out about AIDS either! I’ve got some wonderful condoms specially for the occasion, feather-light, ultra-top-quality—”

The scene fell apart and I was saved.

XII

Emotional revulsion suddenly met my mindless desire head on. I could almost hear the crash echoing through my skull. Without hesitation I stopped cowering behind the chair, walked right up to him and slapped his face. “You
bloody
rent boy!” I yelled at him. “How many more times do I have to tell you to get real? How dare you treat me as if I were a slag with no self-respect! And how dare you speak with such contempt of that repulsive client of yours who’s so starved of love that he has to pay scum like you to create the lousiest possible imitation of it! You may think of sex as being no more important than a cup of tea, but people get
hurt
by what you do, they get torn up and broken—and no, don’t try to deny it, I saw what you did to Moira, she visited me, she was vilely humiliated and unhappy—and I saw what you did to Richard too! You really messed him up, he was on the rack, he was almost crying with the pain of it all.
You,
a friend of Richard Slaney’s? Don’t make me laugh! A real friend wouldn’t have trashed him like that, and the truth is you abused him just as you abused Moira—but you’re bloody well not going to abuse me! In fact you can be very sure I’m never going to bed with a PROSTITUTE either now or at any other time!”

I stopped speaking. Silence fell. Gavin was no longer looking at me, no longer even rubbing his face where I had hit him. I noticed how his perfect cheekbones seemed more prominent when his skin was pale with shock, but at that moment his looks meant nothing to me. I was too busy watching his vulnerability surface, and the instant I at last stopped worrying about my own vulnerability and focused on his with my eyes wide open, I realised with horror that he was reeling with the pain I had inflicted. I saw then that his destructive behaviour called forth destructive behaviour in others; he was constantly offering himself up for punishment, constantly trashing himself as ruthlessly as he trashed his victims.

I thought: you stupid, stupid little boy, can’t you see you’re right out there on the edge?

And in a flash—in a crackling shift of consciousness which seemed to churn the very centre of my brain—I was up there on the high wire with my damaged younger brother, and my whole being was focused on snatching him back from the abyss.

XIII

“Wait.”

That was my voice. It wasn’t loud and it wasn’t panicky. One has to keep cool up on the high wire; one has to keep calm.

“Wait,” I said again, and another silent moment slipped by while we both remained motionless. I knew I had to reach out to steady him, but the wire was so unstable that I was reluctant to make any physical movement. I had to concentrate on staying balanced while I used words to restore his confidence, but I knew that with the right words I could stop him falling.

I said: “Sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, but I just hate what you do for a living. If only you’d be the Gavin who showed himself at the Healing Centre! I liked that Gavin so much, and when we held hands . . .” I hesitated but managed to say: “We were real friends then, no play-acting. Everything was so real.”

I saw him swallow before he tried to speak. Then he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper: “I didn’t mean to hurt Richard.”

“I know you didn’t, Gavin.” As the wire ceased to swing, I made my voice as gentle as I possibly could. “I know how much he meant to you.”

Impulsively he said: “I’m getting out of leisure-working soon. My manager has plans. I’m going into films.”

“What kind of films?”

He said nothing.

“Gavin, ditch her. Listen, I spent a lot of my life crucifying myself with the need to make big money, but now I realise I’d have been far happier earning less and enjoying a lifestyle which reflected the kind of person I really am.”

“It’s not just the money. I love her,” he said, finally looking at me. His eyes were a grave, clear blue. “I was nothing before I met Elizabeth, but she had faith in me, she believed I had talent. I owe her everything.”

“But if she loves you,” I said, speaking gently again, “how can she encourage you to live like this?”

He backed off, reaching for the door handle. It was as if he had finally been able to move from the high wire to the platform at the far end; for the time being, at least, he was safe.

As I stepped onto the platform to join him, relief made my focus slip, and I started to think again about myself. The mention of the name Elizabeth deflected me into the past.

“Gavin,” I said as the mood altered between us, “have you ever heard of a man called Kim Betz?”

He paused. “What was that last name again?”

“Betz. B-E-T-Z.”

“No, who’s he?”

“He was my husband. He was a City lawyer who got drawn into a vile way of life which included membership of an occult society, and he was introduced to the society by this woman Elizabeth Mayfield whom I mentioned to you the other day . . . Has your Elizabeth ever operated as a psychic healer or had connections with the occult?” But even as I spoke I knew it was useless to question him. If he loved her he would lie for her. I would learn nothing here.

Gavin said firmly: “That kind of rubbish just isn’t her scene.”

“So this private club you recruit for—”

“God knows what that’s about, but if Elizabeth’s involved you can bet it’s got nothing to do with religion.”

There was a knock on the door as Nicholas arrived for our conference.