Old Sins (120 page)

‘Well, maybe in his other life he was a much more modest person.’

‘Maybe. But Miles says he always seemed to be rather rich. And he did put Miles through college.’

‘Still doesn’t have to have been a millionaire.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘Did he know anything about this other life?’

‘Well, my father obviously fed him a load of claptrap. Told him he had a wife called Alice and some little boys. Alice! It’s so peculiar. I just feel as if I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole myself.’

‘I’m sure you do. Poor Roz. What’s Miles like?’

‘Charming,’ said Roz briefly. ‘You just cannot help liking him. Terribly good-looking, very blond and Californian, and very very kind of relaxed.’

‘And how has he reacted to it all?’

‘Well, of course the news about Hugo Dashwood and my father doesn’t mean all that much to him. I mean he hardly knew the man, and it certainly wasn’t an unpleasant shock for him, just something rather intriguing. I do feel sorry for him though, he was leading a perfectly happy life bumming round the Bahamas with a nice little girlfriend called Honey or Sweetie or something, and he’s been catapulted into this dungheap.’

‘I thought he was in Miami.’

‘Yes, well he was, latterly. Oh, it’s a long story. We had lunch with him yesterday, Granny Letitia and I, and he gave us a potted autobiography. Only inevitably it led to Letitia’s autobiography, as more and more champagne went down.’

‘Prince of Wales?’

‘Prince of Wales,’ said Roz, and smiled briefly. ‘It’s nice to see you, C. J. How – how is Camilla?’

‘Very well,’ said C. J., returning the smile, knowing what the question must have cost her. ‘She sent you her – her best,’ he reported faithfully, aware how oddly American the message sounded but unable for obvious reasons to translate it to the English and ‘love’.

‘How kind,’ said Roz. ‘Well, C. J., I have to admit it was a shock hearing about you two, but I’m delighted if it makes you happy.’ Her tone managed to imply this was very unlikely.

‘Thank you,’ said C. J. He wished Roz would drive a little more slowly; she was doing seventy-five on the Hammersmith flyover and it made him very nervous. He knew from past experience it was no use saying anything to try and deter her; she would simply put her foot down harder. ‘Er – how’s Michael?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ said Roz in a voice that mixed
suppressed rage and icy disdain. ‘Well, I imagine. He’s – away at present.’

‘I see. So he doesn’t know anything about all this?’

‘Absolutely nothing.’

C. J. had the sense not to pursue the subject.

‘You look very tired,’ he said carefully. ‘Would you like me to drive?’

‘No, I told you, I like driving, I find it therapeutic. I am tired, I hardly slept last night. I don’t know quite why,’ she added, ‘but I’m taking you to Cheyne Walk. I thought you could have a shower if you want to, and there are still some of your clothes there, and we can talk some more.’

‘Sure.’ He looked at his watch; it was nearly six, English time; it had been an endless day.

‘Where’s Miles?’

‘Exploring London. He thinks it’s just wonderful. And buying some clothes. He’s hardly got anything with him. But he’ll be back soon. I asked him to have supper with us.’

He liked Miles. It was impossible not to. He was so straightforwardly engaging, so charmingly mannered, so easy to talk to; entirely unfazed by the situation he had walked into, so disinterested in his potential wealth and power, so concerned to be helpful and constructive in the situation. He sat eating supper in Roz’s kitchen, listening quietly as she talked to C. J., occasionally putting in a suggestion, offering a view, proffering his help; C. J. thought it was a very long time since he had met someone he liked so wholeheartedly.

‘I’ll go and see Letitia this evening if you like,’ C. J. said, pushing a half-eaten plate of food away from him. ‘It has to be got over, after all.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that,’ said Miles. ‘You should never give people bad news at night. Sorry,’ he added, ‘nothing to do with me. But that’s what I would think.’

‘You’re right,’ said C. J. ‘I’ll go first thing in the morning.’

‘OK,’ said Roz. ‘And I’ll fly up to Mummy then as well.’

‘What can I do?’ asked Miles. ‘I could go and meet whatsername, if you like. She’s flying in in the morning isn’t she? I could tell her what’s happening. Would that be helpful?’

‘Oh, there’s no need for that,’ said Roz quickly. For a few
hours she had forgotten that particular aspect of the situation, of the fight between her and Phaedria for Miles’ support. She was going to have to watch Phaedria very carefully.

‘OK,’ said Miles. ‘Whatever you say. But I have to get to know her. Seemed a good way. And she could use the help maybe.’

‘Well, Pete Praeger, my father’s – her – driver will be meeting her,’ said Roz. ‘And she’ll have the child with her. She’ll be very distracted. You can meet her later.’

C. J. looked at her sharply. So she was politicking already. He was surprised she was leaving Miles in London alone with Phaedria at all. Roz wasn’t.

She looked at Miles thoughtfully. ‘Why don’t you come to Scotland with me?’ she said. ‘My mother would adore you, and it would take her mind off the other trauma.’

‘Roz,’ said C. J., ‘I don’t know that is a terribly good idea. Eliza might be very upset by the news about your father.’

‘C. J.,’ said Roz firmly. ‘I think I know my mother and what would and would not be best for her rather more intimately than you do. Besides, Miles has nothing to do in London – yet,’ she added, giving the word a mildly threatening ring, ‘and it’s so boring for him. Would you like to come, Miles?’

Miles was looking at Roz with an interesting expression on his face: it was half amused, half thoughtful, and there was another element altogether, which C. J. could not quite define; he filed it away for future examination. It was only when he was safely back in his own flat in Sloane Street later that night and thinking about the evening and its conversations that he was able to analyse it. It had been, without doubt, sexual interest.

‘Sure,’ said Miles. ‘Sounds fun. Didn’t you say she lived in a castle? That’d be great.’

‘Oh well, have it your own way,’ said C. J. ‘I’ll take care of Phaedria, then.’

‘C. J.,’ said Roz. ‘I really cannot see why Phaedria will need taking care of. She has been doing nothing for almost two months other than lying around in that hotel, soaking up the sun; she hasn’t even been looking after the child. It’s been in hospital. I’m sure she can get herself installed in her own home, with the assistance of God knows how many staff, without you putting your oar in.’

‘All right, Roz, all right,’ said C. J. ‘I take your point. I happen not to agree with you, that’s all. I shall go and see her and make sure she’s all right.’

‘Oh, have it your own way,’ said Roz. ‘I’d forgotten how you had made her your personal good cause. No doubt she’ll be glad to see you. She’ll be trawling sympathy all over London, I expect.’

‘Roz, I do think you might be just a little more sensitive about her,’ said C. J. ‘She has also had a fearful shock. And she’s been out there quite alone, she hasn’t had anyone to talk to about it at all.’

‘Oh, I doubt that,’ said Roz, and there was a ferocious expression on her face. ‘I daresay she’s found some broad shoulder to cry on. Probably a masculine one. Anyway, C. J., you do what you think best. It’s nothing to do with me, after all.’

Miles had been listening to this exchange with a look of almost incredulous interest; Roz suddenly became aware of it and changed the subject.

‘We’ll probably come back from Scotland on Thursday,’ she said. ‘So could you let everyone in the office know I’ll be away till then? I suppose once this particular phase is over we need to talk to Richard Brookes about Miles.’

‘Who’s Richard Brookes?’ asked Miles.

‘The company lawyer. Next to the family, he is the person who will most need to talk to you. Explain your position there. Sort out what will happen short and long term.’

Miles looked alarmed. ‘Long term there’s no happening,’ he said. ‘I just want to go home.’

‘I know,’ said Roz, ‘but one way or another, you have to offload your share on to someone. You can’t just cut and run.’ She smiled at him. ‘You’re one of us now, for better or worse, and you have to face up to it.’

‘Are you really not interested in becoming part of the company?’ asked C. J.

Miles looked at him as if he had just suggested night was day, or black white.

‘I certainly am not,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to sound rude or ungrateful, but I just can’t imagine anything more awful than having to run even a smidgen of a company. You can just have it with my blessing.’

‘Very wise,’ said C. J. ‘I would feel exactly the same.’

‘No, but as I explained to Miles yesterday,’ said Roz, ‘he certainly shouldn’t just give his share away. If that’s what he finally decides to do. I think you should go into it a little more thoroughly, Miles. But whatever you do decide, you should certainly sell it. Don’t you think so, C. J.?’

‘Absolutely,’ said C. J. ‘And then you can sail away on your surf board to your very own tropical island or whatever with – what’s her name?’

‘Candy,’ said Miles. ‘Candy McCall. Yeah, a tropical island might be nice. Shall I show you a picture of her?’

‘Oh, do,’ said C. J. politely. He looked after Miles as he went in search of his jacket, and the collection of pictures of Candy he carried in it.

‘Nice boy,’ he said to Roz.

‘People keep calling him a boy,’ said Roz irritably. ‘He’s only two years younger than me.’

‘Well, he seems a boy,’ said C. J. ‘It’s that Californian innocence. Ah, Miles, let’s have a look.’

Candy’s sweet, deceptively guileless smile greeted them from the beach, from a restaurant, from the poolside of the hotel. C. J. and Roz studied her, her almost indecent youth, her blue eyes, her freckles, her colt-like legs.’

‘She’s lovely,’ said C. J., meaning it. ‘And she’s how old?’

‘Eighteen. We want to get married, but her old man won’t hear of it.’

‘Oh, he’ll come round,’ said C. J. easily. ‘Fathers do, don’t they, Roz? Pretty predictable people really.’ He spoke without thinking; he was appalled to see Roz’s face suddenly whiten and tears fill her eyes. ‘Oh, Roz, I’m so sorry,’ he said, pushing his chair back, going to her, trying to put his arms round her. ‘I didn’t think. I’m so sorry.’

‘Well, you should think,’ she said, and it was almost a cry of pain that escaped her. ‘You bloody well should think.’ And she got up and walked quickly out of the room.

‘Oh hell,’ said C. J. ‘Now I’ve done it. I have a rare talent,’ he said to Miles, half smiling at his own incompetence, ‘for annoying and upsetting her. It was one of the things that most characterized our marriage.’

‘You didn’t mean anything,’ said Miles. ‘You were just being polite to me. She’ll see that, surely.’

‘You don’t know Roz,’ said C. J. ‘She has trouble seeing that sort of thing, and anyway, she’s desperately upset, it was very thoughtless of me.’

‘Shall I go and talk to her?’ asked Miles. ‘I haven’t annoyed her yet.’ And he smiled his radiant, slightly conspiratorial smile at C. J.

‘You could try,’ said C. J. ‘I might just go home now. Tell her I’ll ring her in Scotland when I’ve talked to Letitia. Are you sure you don’t mind going up there?’

‘Absolutely not,’ said Miles. ‘It’ll be fun. In a way. More fireworks though, I guess.’

‘I guess,’ said C. J. ‘Well, it’s been very nice meeting you, Miles. No doubt I shall be seeing some more of you. I’m sorry your introduction to this family has been so extremely traumatic.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Miles. ‘It beats waiting, I can tell you that.’

‘Waiting? Oh you mean being a waiter?’

‘Yup.’

‘I would doubt that slightly myself,’ said C. J., smiling. ‘Anyway, good night Miles. And thank you.’

‘What for?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Being a calming influence.’

‘That’s OK.’

Miles went out of the kitchen and up to the drawing room; Roz was there, gazing blankly out at the river. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Yes, of course. Sorry about that. C. J. is an insensitive idiot.’

‘He seems pretty nice and sensitive to me.’

‘Well, maybe he is. I guess there’s too much emotion between us just at the moment.’

‘There’s too much emotion around all of you at the moment. And I guess it’s going to get worse.’

‘Yes, you’re right, of course it is. And somehow I have to be able to cope with it calmly. And I don’t see how I can.’

‘You should let it all out a bit,’ he said. ‘You’re too tense. It really helps to yell now and again.’

‘Do you ever yell?’

He looked at her, and smiled. ‘Not often, because I don’t often get worked up. I just don’t seem to be made that way. But when I do, yes, I yell. And Candy yells a lot.’

‘What makes Candy yell?’

‘Oh, all sorts of things. Her dad. Her stepmom. Boredom. PMT.Me.’

‘I can’t imagine –’

‘What?’

‘You making anyone yell.’

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘you’d be surprised. I make her yell, I make my granny yell, or used to. I make old Mrs Galbraith yell like anything.’

‘But how?’ she said. ‘What do you do?’

‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘that’s exactly it. Nothing at all.’

‘I’ve never met anyone like you before,’ said Roz, smiling at him.

‘I don’t know how much of a loss that is. Would you like me to massage your neck and your shoulders? I bet you’re one huge knot. Never fails.’

‘I hate being massaged,’ said Roz quickly. It was true. ‘It makes me feel more fraught, not less.’

‘You’ve never been massaged by me,’ he said. ‘Now shut up, and sit there, on that chair, so I can stand behind you. OK. Now then, just close your eyes and relax. Oh, your ex husband’s gone, by the way. He said to tell you he was real sorry and that he’d call you in Scotland in the morning.’

‘Well, that’s par for the course,’ said Roz. ‘He would just disappear like that.’

‘I thought he was really nice,’ said Miles. His strong brown hands were working on her neck now. ‘Don’t resist, just shut your eyes and relax like I told you to.’