Into Temptation (Spoils of Time 03) (52 page)

‘Elspeth don’t. I—’

‘Don’t what, Keir? Don’t have it? Don’t be upset? What do you expect me to be? I’ve tried so hard to be a good wife to you, and a good mother to Cecilia. I’ve done absolutely everything I could, and now you behave as if I was some kind of – of trollop. What do you want me to do, have an abortion?’

‘Elspeth! That’s a vile thing to say.’

‘Well you’re being vile. I don’t understand it, you love Cecilia, you’re enjoying your job, we’re managing fine—’

‘Oh we are? Some very nasty bills have just come in. Rates, rent, electricity, all gone up. I’ve asked Giles for a raise, but he won’t give me one.’

‘Well, there’s a surprise. Keir, why didn’t you tell me all this, I don’t have to be shielded from such things, I could help—’

‘No,’ he said, ‘not if you mean going back to work, no. I’ll not have it.’

‘Of course not. How could I, anyway, with Cecilia being so tiny and this new little one on the way? But – babies don’t cost very much. We’ve got all the stuff, the cot and pram and everything, and it – he – will be living off me for a while. Although Cecilia does need some new clothes, she’s growing so fast, and some shoes now that she’s starting to walk. But anyway, we are having another one and that’s all there is to it. Don’t look so miserable, we’ll manage. And you know we have to have the son and heir – I just know this one’ll be a boy. Please, please, Keir, be a little bit pleased.’

She sat down on his lap, put her arms round his neck; he managed to smile at her.

‘Of course I am. A little bit. I’ll be more so, I dare say, when I get used to the idea. It was just – just a bit of a shock, that’s all.’

‘I can’t think why,’ she said, ‘we’ve been doing an awful lot of the right things. I’m really excited.’

‘How do you feel?’

‘Oh – not too bad. Yet. It’s very early days.’

He looked at her, hope in his eyes. ‘Then – then you could be mistaken?’

‘No, definitely not. Once you’ve been pregnant, you know the signs pretty well. They’re all there, I’m tired, a bit dizzy, my breasts are sore, I can’t face coffee—’

‘Well,’ he smiled at her, rather wearily, ‘we’ll just have to manage somehow.’

‘Of course. Of course we will. Look, you finish your supper and I’ll make us some tea.’

She went off to the kitchen, humming happily under her breath. First part of the mission safely accomplished. It had worked beautifully, making those holes in her dutch cap. The next phase might be more difficult; but she knew she could do it. Her grandmother would be so proud of her: if she could only tell her. But of course she couldn’t. Even Celia wouldn’t have been that devious, she was quite, quite sure.

Izzie sat frozen with fear, waiting for Noni to arrive. She had tried very hard to dissuade her from coming; had pleaded first busyness, and then an incipient illness, but Noni was having none of it.

‘If you’re busy I shall just come and watch you work till you finish, and if you’re ill, I’ll take you home and look after you. You can’t get out of it that easily. What’s the matter, don’t you love me any more?’

‘Of course I do,’ said Izzie, aware that even in her misery, she couldn’t have Noni thinking that. ‘You know I do. I’ve missed you terribly, it’s just that—’

‘Just what? Oh, never mind, you can tell me when we meet. I’ll be finished at six tomorrow, or thereabouts, I’ll phone you, shall I, and then make my way down to you. I’m so longing to see your apartment, Barty says it’s lovely. Or – or maybe I could come to your office, I’d love to meet your boys. I’ve heard so much about them, I’ll get a cab and come downtown. Don’t you like that, Izzie? I’ve picked up all the New York lingo already.’

Izzie looked at the boys. They were sitting together, working on an ad for Barty; she had put a lot their way lately. When they had told her she was being too kind, she said not at all, the more work she gave them, the quicker she’d be able to cash in on her investment.

‘And of course that’s not the only reason, before you get all paranoid. You do the best ads I know. Look what our in-house ad department came up with, did you ever see such – such garbage.’

‘Barty,’ Mike had said, reading the ad, passing it to Nick, ‘I tell you, you don’t even know what garbage is. You want to see garbage, I’ll show you some. Meanwhile, OK, we’ll see what we can do with this. And thanks. Again.’

‘Izzie, hallo. Is it all right to come up? The door wasn’t locked. Oh it’s so wonderful to see you, let me give you a big hug.’

‘My God,’ said Izzie. The words came out unbidden. ‘My God, Noni . . .’

Was it really her? Shy, quiet, rather serious Noni? This tall goddess of a creature, in a mink coat slung casually over a loose woollen sheath dress, gleaming dark hair swept back in a perfect chignon, great wings of eyeshadow and rows of fake lashes emphasising her nearly black, almondshaped eyes, her mouth a slash of brilliant colour.

‘It’s me, it’s me, I can’t believe I’m here, we’re together again. Izzie, you look gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, and now you must be the boys, I’ve heard so much about you, all about how clever you are, and how madly attractive. Now which of you is which? You must be Nick, I imagine, and you Mike—’

‘Wrong,’ said Nick coming over to her, holding out his bony hand, ‘I’m Nick, I’m the really attractive one, and this is Mike, he’s the rather less attractive one—’

‘Hi,’ said Mike. He appeared equally dazed; they all three stood there, speechless, staring at her.

‘Well, aren’t you going to show me round? All your offices and everything, and where does everyone else work, goodness it’s so exciting—’

‘Lady,’ said Mike, ‘you’re standing in ’em, all our offices, and everyone works right here, in fact, you’re looking at everyone—’

‘You mean you do it all on your own? My God, how amazing. I’ve spent the afternoon at
Harpers
, you wouldn’t believe the fuss they make about every single little thing. Carmel Snow, she’s the editor, she goes to church every single morning, they’re on Madison and there’s a church just two or three blocks up, she says she couldn’t do her job without it, and I have to say I think she must need God on her side. It’s a nightmare there, there’s this woman, Diana Vreeland, who’s the fashion editor, and she is just so grand and snobbish—’

‘Snobbish,’ said Mike. ‘You can recognise snobbish?’

‘Yes, of course. Why ever not? I’m not used to snobbery at all, except from my grandmother of course and she doesn’t count, does she, Izzie? But Mrs Vreeland is just ridiculous, she examined me as if I was a racehorse of some kind, walked round and round me, nodding occasionally, and then she said – not to me but to the art director – “Yes, she’ll do.” Anyway, you don’t want to hear about me.’

‘Oh we do,’ said Nick, still staring at her absolutely transfixed. ‘We most certainly do.’

Izzie saw her salvation.

‘Why don’t you both come with us? We’re only going out to supper, aren’t we, Noni?’

‘Yes, of course, that’d be divine, please do say you’ll come. I thought later we might go on to the Stork Club, what do you think? The other girls will be there, and possibly Richard Avedon. You know who I saw in his studio? Fred Astaire. Mr Avedon photographs him a lot, and he is an absolute darling, so charming and courteous. Richard Avedon’s studio is just so civilised, you’d be amazed, there’s always music playing and he serves tea in little white cups—’

‘I think perhaps not the Stork Club,’ said Izzie quickly. The thought of going there, where people like Andy Warhol and Truman Capote drank and talked their nights away, was almost as terrifying as spending an intimate evening with Noni.

‘Pity. I know they’d love to see you. Now, I’ve got some wonderful news for you, Izzie. I’ve managed to get you a flight back with me. One of the other models was coming with us and now she can’t, so I said could you have her place. It’s all booked and paid for, you might as well. We can sit and chat all the way to London and it’s only a day earlier than you would have flown, I checked with Sebastian—’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Izzie feebly. ‘The thing is, I’ve got so much to do and—’

‘You go, darling.’ It was Nick; he clearly couldn’t wait to be rid of her. But at least he’d called her darling.

‘Good. That’s settled.’

They all went to a restaurant in the Village; the boys sat on either side of Noni, listening enthralled while she chattered through the meal. Izzie sat at the end, grateful for the diversion, but faintly embarrassed at the nonsense pouring out, endless nonsense, some of it quite amusing. There was gossip about the other models, who was marrying this millionaire and who was marrying that peer of the realm – ‘It’s a wonderful way to get a rich husband, Izzie, I tell you that’ – about photographers, which ones were homosexual and which ones weren’t – ‘I prefer the fairies, myself, much better gossip and you can talk about your hair and make-up to them for hours’ – which couturiers she liked and which she didn’t – ‘I actually met Chanel the other day, can you imagine? She is so beautiful still, and so chic. There’s a spiral staircase leading up from the salon and while her show is going on, she always sits at the top of it, just out of sight’ – what she had bought in which shop in New York – ‘Don’t you love Bonwit Tellers more than any place on earth?’ – about being ‘sort of engaged, only don’t tell anyone, not even Maman’, to someone divine called Percy.

‘Percy! Noni, you can’t be in love with someone called Percy.’

Somehow in her strung-up state this amused Izzie hugely; she struggled to compose herself.

Noni giggled. ‘I know, it’s not the best name. But it’s a frightfully noble one, he’s the son of an earl, which means I’d be Countess of Crowthorne one day, wouldn’t Granny love it?’

At this point the boys looked as if they might be about to burst with excitement; Izzie, on the other hand, sat looking at this astonishing new Noni, and thought that, grateful as she was for the reprieve, she had really rather preferred the old one.

At last the meal was over; Noni said she must get back to her hotel, that she had promised Mrs Vreeland she wouldn’t be late – ‘She says late nights show on the skin’ – and then just as Izzie thought she was safe, suddenly started talking about Geordie.

‘Have you seen him? He said he’d bumped into you, and that he’d seen your apartment. Maybe we could go back there now, no, I’d better not, maybe another time, I wish I had one, I’m still living at home, you know, can’t leave Maman—’

‘Is – is she all right?’

‘Not really,’ said Noni, her voice heavier suddenly, ‘she’s very depressed. And lonely, poor darling. She’s not working, so she’s bored too. But she’s seeing a psychiatrist now and—’

‘A psychiatrist!’

‘Yes, yes she is, has been for ages.’

This was getting worse. ‘Oh, Noni, I’m so, so sorry—’

‘Darling, you’re so sweet. I know. It’s awful, and she’s on loads of pills, anti-depressants and—’

‘Nobody told me,’ said Izzie. ‘Nobody told me that.’

‘Well – not many people know. She hates people to; don’t mention it when you see her, will you. Of course Geordie knew.’

‘Geordie knew?’

‘Of course. But he kept it quiet, for her sake. God, it’s so awful, all that, if only he’d come back, she misses him so terribly. But I don’t think he ever will now, it’s all such a mess, and one of those things that really is no one’s fault. It’s terrible for poor little Clio too, she misses Geordie dreadfully. If he’d only come back to London, it would help, at least he could see her again. What a mess. Perhaps I won’t get married. Darlings I must go, sorry you two, so boring, hearing all about my family. Thank you so much for the meal, now I wonder, could you be terribly clever and get me a cab?’

She was gone at last; Izzie stood staring after her, feeling as if she had had a very long illness, and had only just begun to recover.

‘She was something else,’ said Mike, shaking his head, ‘really something else. My God, Izzie, your family—’

‘She’s not my family,’ said Izzie, ‘she’s nothing to do with me.’ And burst into tears.

They were both very sweet. Mike offered to go back with her, but she said, no, it was all right, she was very tired, and she just wanted to go to bed. So they got her a cab and kissed her goodnight, both of them, on the cheek, and saw her into it; the last thing she saw was the pair of them, standing in the street, talking earnestly.

She was halfway back in the taxi when she realised she didn’t have her house key. She had the office key, but she had separated them earlier that day and left one with her neighbour so she could let the electrician in to fix a plug. And she’d forgotten. She’d meant to get the spare from her desk; she’d just have to go back for it. The cab driver was not very pleased.

She walked into the office, the quiet, dark, untidy office, where she had spent the happiest times she could ever remember, and sighed, thinking how she had completely messed all that up. She went over to her desk, opened the drawer and retrieved her key. And then sat there thinking, thinking about all this dangerous new knowledge and freshly appalled at what she had done. Not just betrayed Adele, the Adele she thought she had known, but a different, still more vulnerable one, on anti-depressants, in the care of a psychiatrist.

Well at least she could see now that she was going to have to go to London and face Adele. There was no way out. She would tell her herself how sorry she was, that she had not known she was ill, that she had thought her marriage was over. However terrifying the prospect. And it was terrifying. She—

The door of the office swung open; she jumped, terrified. It was an intruder, she’d be murdered, well maybe that would solve a problem or two, probably raped as well.

‘Izzie. What are you doing here?’

It was Nick. She stared at him, too miserable even to be embarrassed.

‘I left my key behind. What about you?’

‘I wanted to do a bit of work.’

‘Oh, I see. Well – I’m just going, I won’t distract you.’

And then suddenly she burst into tears.

He was very good; he sat down next to her, took her hand and gave her a handkerchief.