More Than You Know (39 page)

Manager, Sloane Square Branch

Two and a half grand, that was an awful lot of money. An impossible amount. How had he done that? Mrs. Fullerton-Clark, of course, had a great deal to answer for in the matter; that cocktail party she’d insisted they give, not to mention the endless tedious dinner parties, her bloody Harrods account, the holiday she’d booked “as a surprise” on the joint account, flying—flying, for Christ’s sake, and first class—to Venice for their wedding anniversary, and then, oh, God, the deposit on the house Juliet had found and fallen in love with near Guildford—maybe he could do something clever with the mortgage; now, there was an idea. It just crept up, month by month, the odd saving of ten or twenty pounds here and there hardly worth making, so he didn’t, but the worst thing was that insane gamble with those shares, which everyone had said were a dead cert—fifteen hundred bloody quid, worth just about a tenth of that now—anyway, he had to think of something. And talk to Juliet.

“But I just don’t understand. We’re so careful, don’t live at anything like the rate of our friends, hardly ever go out to restaurants, still haven’t joined the Ad Lib or the Saddle Room—”

“Juliet,” said Charles, “we are not careful. We”—he longed to say
you
—“are quite extravagant. Every month it’s the same, spending over what we can afford. I don’t want to spell it out—”

“Well, I think you’d better. Otherwise I’ll never understand—”

He spelt it out; she listened.

Then: “Well, you’ll have to ask your father. He can make you a loan.”

“Juliet, my father has no money whatsoever. I wish you could understand that.”

“I don’t, to be honest. Living in that great house with your mother’s grand family—”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. That great house is falling down. There is no money to patch it up. My mother never even puts the central heating on; they’re stony broke. I don’t know where this idea came from that there was money in my family; I’ve told you often enough.”

“Well, obviously you didn’t make it clear. I don’t know what Daddy will say.”

“I don’t see what it has to do with your father.”

“Of course it does. You’re his only son-in-law; he’ll be so disappointed in you. And if you’re going to start buying shares, you’d better consult him; he’s made a lot of money, although I’d have thought with you being a stockbroker, you wouldn’t have made such a stupid mistake.”

“Oh, go to hell,” said Charles, and walked out of the house.

He made an appointment to see the bank manager two days later; he asked Juliet to go with him. She refused.

“I don’t see why I should put myself in such an awful, humiliating situation. It’s not my fault.”

Mr. Winston was sympathetic. “I know how easy it is for young people to get into this situation. But I can’t allow this to go on, Mr. Fullerton-Clark. I’m afraid I’ll have to take a charge on your flat.”

“But … it’s on the market,” said Charles. “I’ve put down a preliminary deposit on a house.”

“Cheaper?” said Mr. Winston hopefully.

“Er … no.”

“Well, you’ll have to take the flat off the market again. I couldn’t possibly give you any kind of guarantee to a building society. My advice to you would be to look for something cheaper, use the difference to pay off your debts. You can’t go on like this.”

“Now I want you to listen to me very carefully.” Jack Beckham glared at Eliza.

“Yes. I’m listening.”

“I’ve decided that I … I was mistaken. I perhaps shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Right—”

“And … well, I have decided that we’ll leave things as they are. That you can stay in the job.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you, Jack. Er … what happens if I don’t want to?”

“Of course you bloody well want to,” he said.

There were, he said, conditions. “I don’t want to hear anything about your being tired. I don’t want you to be away. I—”

“Er, excuse me,” said Eliza.

“Yes?”

“Do we convert my office into a labour ward?”

“What?”

“Well, if I can’t be away … I mean, this baby’s got to come out sometime.”

“Don’t be so fucking ridiculous. You know perfectly well what I mean.”

“Ah. So I can have a day or two off?”

“You can have a week,” he said, grinning at her, “possibly with an extension for good behaviour.”

“Right. OK. Well … thank you.”

“The thing is,” he said, “you’re the best fashion editor in London at the moment. Everyone says so. And if I want you here, I suppose I just have to put up with your … your condition.”

“I suppose you do.”

“Now what do I do?” she wailed to Maddy. “I’ve got my job back and I’m over the moon, of course, and Matt won’t let me do it.”

“Has he said so?”

“What, since Jack told me? Of course not. I … well I haven’t told him. I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

The fact of the matter was that she couldn’t bear to, in case he simply
forbade her to accept. She adored Matt, and she was incredibly happy about the baby, but if she was deprived of her work, a large piece of the jigsaw that was her would be missing …

When Jack had told her she was the best fashion editor in London, she felt literally that she could have flown; she savoured those words, went over and over them in her head; she felt stroked and sleek and dizzy with them. She was that most elusive, sought-after, fought-over thing, a success. It was a prize beyond anything she could have imagined. She could not, she would not, give that up. She would manage Matt somehow. Somehow …

Mariella was coming to London on a shopping trip, not merely for her, but for Giovanni. Eliza was rather charmed that he bought his clothes in London—it was, Mariella explained, because he was not an aristocrat.

“The old families dress in Italy and the new ones in England. That is how it goes. He has his shoes made in Lobb; he buys his suits at Henry Poole; he has his shirts made in Savile Row. His ambition is to look like an English gentleman.”

She invited Eliza and Matt to join them for dinner. “We are staying at the Ritz. I need to meet your husband. Shall we say Wednesday?”

“Wednesday would be lovely,” said Eliza, trying and failing to imagine Matt dining with the Crespis.

It was a surprisingly successful evening, even though Eliza could tell that Mariella was struggling not to compare Matt unfavourably with Jeremy. She herself was very taken with Giovanni, who was tall, charming, and elegant, with thick silvery-blond hair and sculpted features. He clearly adored Mariella, constantly blowing her kisses across the table.

But the real love affair of the evening was between Giovanni and Matt, who formed a mutual admiration society, trumping each other’s stories of early successes, of risks run and dangers confronted, and agreeing that business was the most potent drug in the world.

“Nice chap,” said Matt as they sat back in their taxi. “Don’t know what my dad would say, me consorting with wops.”

“Matt!” said Eliza. “Honestly, you are so dreadful. Sometimes I think you do it on purpose.”

“Course I do,” he said, and grinned at her.

“I have to say,” Geoffrey Judd said, glaring at Charles. “You’ve let us all down, especially Juliet. Managing your money isn’t very difficult; you simply need some self-discipline.”

Charles longed to say it was Juliet who lacked the self-discipline. Instead he looked at his hands and metaphorically bit his tongue.

“What’s more, I think we’ve all been deceived, leading us all to believe you owned that house, giving Juliet false expectations when it’s nothing of the sort.”

This was too much. “I’m afraid, Mr. Judd, you don’t understand. The house is owned by a family trust, holding it for my mother and then for future generations.”

“Same difference, as far as I’m concerned. And a drain on any resources you may have into the bargain. Well, none of my money is going into it, I can tell you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of suggesting such a thing,” said Charles.

“Maybe not, but the fact remains that my daughter can’t have the home or the lifestyle she was very much led to expect. She wants to have children, you know, like any young woman; she’s not going to get them the way you’re going on. Anyway, I’m prepared to make you a loan to pay off your overdraft, so you can start afresh, get a mortgage on that house Juliet’s set her heart on. I’ll want a formal repayment plan, but I’m prepared to be reasonable about it, nothing too steep while you get yourself sorted out. How does that sound?”