The Decision (86 page)

‘Oh, sure.’

‘You are. You’ve given up your career to look after her. At Matt’s express wishes.’

‘Until now.’

‘What, for two days a week? Leaving her in the care of an excellent nanny?’

‘And sneaking off up to Scotland and committing adultery with a work colleague. I don’t think so.’

‘Well,’ he said after a long pause, ‘let’s see what a solictor has to say about it.’

It was an uncomfortable weekend; Summercourt didn’t work its usual magic. She paced the house and the garden, trying to crush the panic, the terrible sense of foreboding, trying to tell herself it couldn’t happen, that she wouldn’t lose Emmie, that no judge would rule against her. Telling herself, over and over again. And trying very hard to believe it.

Mariella had done it. Finally. After years of hard graft.

She was at the top of one of the best-dressed lists. In
Women’s Wear Daily
, the bible of the fashion trade. Probably the most important list of all. And she was therefore, all over the papers as well, the
New York Times
, the
Daily News
, and even
The Times
in London.

She received the congratulations of her friends, and the press, graciously but modestly: ‘It is nothing,’ she said, ‘just a little lucky moment.’

She knew of course it was nothing of the sort; a huge financial investment, an absolute dedication to her cause, a most careful attendance at the openings, the premieres, the charity dinners, the semi-private parties. Always slim, always glowing, hair and make-up perfect, dressed with wit and panache as well as perfect taste, always charming, always smiling, a shimmering star: the very brightest, for however brief a time, in the heaven she had set her sights upon.

Giovanni was less discreet, telephoning the world, throwing an impromptu party at the villa, boasting about her, showing her off.

A party was to be thrown for her in aid of one her favourite charities, by the American magazine,
US Flair
, to celebrate her triumph: in New York, at the Metropolitan Museum, long the home of such affairs.

All fashionable New York was to be there, of course: the fashion press, the designers, the photographers; but friends were invited too, from Milan, from Paris, from New York – and London. Among whom – of course – were Eliza Shaw and Jeremy Northcott.

‘Mariella, darling, so, so many congratulations!’

‘Eliza,
cara
, thank you. I am not a little bit pleased.’

‘Oh, you mean you are a very big bit pleased! And so you should be.’

‘Thank you, darling. Now you must, must come to the party. I will not hear of anything else.’

‘I’m afraid you have to hear of it, Mariella—’

‘Now
cara
, I cannot celebrate this without you. You helped make me more famous and I insist, insist you come. You can bring Matt, of course, I would not expect you to come without him, to leave him a hay widow—’

‘Grass, Mariella, grass.’

‘Well, but grass is young hay. Is that not right?’

‘I suppose it is,’ said Eliza, ‘but anyway, I’m afraid he won’t come either. And there’s something I have to tell you, I’ve been putting it off, because I can’t bear to talk about it, even to my friends but he’s – he’s divorcing me. I’m afraid I – well, I had an affair, Mariella. Well, not even an affair, just a – a—’

‘A one-night lay,’ said Mariella and she laughed. ‘Good for you,
cara
. How he does deserve that.’

‘Well,’ said Eliza, thinking how apt this mis-translation was, ‘he certainly doesn’t think so. And I’ve done a lot of other horrible things too.’

‘I cannot believe that—’

‘No, you have to. Horrible things, things I’m really ashamed of. Anyway, he’s divorcing me and – and – oh, Mariella—’ Her voice was shrouded suddenly in fright and tears. ‘He’s trying to – to get Emmie.’

‘What? He is mad. How can he get her, how can he make anyone think that is right?’

‘Well – he’s working very hard on it. And actually, Mariella, I have to ask you, and it’s a big favour, will you be one of my witnesses?’

‘You will have to produce witnesses,’ Philip Gordon said. He smiled at her gently. ‘It’s essential.’

‘Witnesses?’ said Eliza. ‘Witnesses to what?’

‘To your suitability as a mother. Several, in fact, who can speak up for you, give the lie to all the things your husband is citing as evidence to the contrary. Mrs Shaw – here—’

He pushed a large box of tissues towards her. He always had one, ready for the first meeting with a client.

Eliza blew her nose, wiped her eyes and smiled a watery smile at him. She liked him. Very much.

He had been recommended to her by a friend of Charles’s: ‘He appears very sweet and gentle, but don’t be fooled. He’s tough as the proverbial old boots and he gets – usually – very good results.’

Philip Gordon was a partner in a well-known firm of lawyers just off Chancery Lane. He was grey-haired, blue-eyed, slim and beautifully dressed, in a dark grey suit, a blue shirt that matched his eyes, and the red, navy and brown striped tie of the Old Wykehamist.

‘We like to live over the shop,’ he said to Eliza, taking her coat.

‘Sorry?’

‘The Royal Courts of Justice. Just over there.’ He pointed out of the window.

‘Oh, I see. It looks very grand from here.’ She felt rather alarmed. ‘Would – would this case really be held there?’

‘Oh, yes. Now – coffee? Or tea?’

‘Coffee, please.’

‘Excellent. I do like clients who want coffee in the afternoon, not just mid-morning. My preference precisely.’

He was very charming, Eliza thought; she suddenly felt a little better.

‘Right,’ he said, when the coffee had arrived. ‘Now let’s see. I’ve read your husband’s affidavit, of course, and I must say it’s very aggressive. Gloves off from Day One. These allegations about your being an unfit parent; now I’m sure you can defend them and we’ll go through them in a little while, one by one, but my first instinct on this is that several of them hardly hold water. Your going out to work – pretty standard these days, I’d have thought. But the other thing I would like to propose today, only for discussion of course, is that we should consider not defending the divorce petition, and putting all our energies into the custody case. Do you think you could defend the charge of adultery? Or would you want to?’

‘Well – no,’ said Eliza, living yet again the horror of that moment, of a naked, shaking Rob, handing her the phone across the bed, saying ‘it’s your husband’. ‘But – wouldn’t that immediately make me the guilty party?’

‘It would, insofar as you were admitting adultery, but not to the other charges, alleging your unsuitability as a mother. Do you think the – the other party would agree to your doing that?’

‘I’ll have to ask him, but I – I think so,’ she said, reflecting on Rob’s reaction when she called him to say what Matt had done.

‘Stupid bloody idiot,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll do whatever you want, Eliza.’

‘Good. So there is no – no emotional complication?’

‘I – that is – no,’ she said, blushing. One of the worst things was the way she had been forced to view herself: as a slut, a good-time girl, sleeping with someone she hardly knew. She felt deeply and horribly ashamed of herself … maybe Matt was right … she didn’t deserve to have charge of Emmie.

‘Good. Then we simply fight the custody case only. I think you might do better that way. Judges get very weary of listening to couples bitching about one another, for want of a better expression, wasting several days of court time.’

‘Would that get it over more quickly?’ said Eliza.

‘It could. Yes.’

‘Because it’s so awful, what’s happening now, living with him in the same house, sort of pretending to Emmie – to my daughter – absolutely ghastly, you can’t imagine. I don’t know why he’s doing it, when he obviously hates me so much. Why doesn’t he move out into a flat or something?’

‘I’d quite like to move out,’ said Matt, to Ivor Lewis.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s absolutely bloody awful, living there in the same house, pretending to my daughter—’

‘It’s a ghastly business, Mr Shaw. Look. You’re fighting for custody of that child because you say your wife is an unfit mother. You move out of the house, what do you think that says?’

‘I – don’t know.’

‘Think about it. It implies you’re happy to leave the child with her, in her care. Not a good point in your favour when it comes to court. Presumably you’re anxious that she’s going to neglect her further, leave her with unsuitable people, continue to undermine your parenting wishes—’

‘Yes, of course I am.’

‘So you shouldn’t walk away from all that. Look – are you concerned that the child is in any physical danger. Has your wife ever struck her, to your knowledge? Because if she has—’

‘No,’ said Matt sharply, ‘no, I’m absolutely confident of that. She just – well, she wouldn’t. It’s out of the question.’

‘You wouldn’t care to – check up on that?’

Matt stared at him.

‘How, for Christ’s sake?’

‘Ask your daughter?’

‘Absolutely not. It would be an appalling thing to suggest to her. It would frighten her.’

‘Not if there had actually been violence. Children keep very quiet about it, you know, they feel ashamed, as if it’s their own fault. And of course that there might be retribution from telling on Mummy or Daddy.’

‘No,’ said Matt, ‘Eliza would never do that. And if she had, Emmie would have told me. She’s quite – quite manipulative. In her own way.’

‘Right. Well, anyway, I would advise you not to move out. Stick it out, Mr Shaw. Hopefully it won’t be for too long. Has your wife suggested moving out?’

‘No. No, she hasn’t. Apart from anything else, she doesn’t have any money, couldn’t afford a flat or anything.’

‘I thought she half owned your country pile?’

‘It’s a legal nicety. I paid for it, through the nose. To save her bloody family from penury. Or what passes for penury to those people. Her mother had to break a family trust to enable me to do it. Nice woman, we get along very well. She doesn’t approve of Eliza working, for a start.’

‘I’d like to look at the agreement,’ said Ivor Lewis. ‘If you don’t mind. And – do you suppose the mother could be persuaded to appear as a witness for your defence? Because that would be a very powerful point in your favour.’

‘Oh – no, I don’t think so,’ said Matt. ‘Blood thicker than water and all that.’

‘Well, if she’s not going to be a witness for you, she’ll certainly be one for her daughter. We can cross-examine in court. You never know. Something might come up.’

‘Darling,’ said Jeremy. ‘Sleeping on the job, so to speak. What a silly girl you are. Dear, oh, dear, Eliza, what a mess.’

‘Yes. I know. I’m sorry Jeremy. So sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise to me, sweetie.’

‘Well, it was while on agency business so to speak. And you must think so badly of me. It’s not as if I was passionately and deeply in love with him. He’s just – just a mate really. I thought better of myself, I really did.’

‘We all do things that take us by surprise sometimes,’ said Jeremy, ‘that we thought we wouldn’t be capable of.’

‘Not you, Jeremy, surely? You’re such a gentleman, always so – so perfectly behaved—’

‘I try,’ he said and sighed suddenly.

‘What have I done, Jeremy? It’s an awful thing that someone who once loved you so much, and thought you were wonderful, despises you and wants to hurt you … you’ve no idea how frightened I feel, the thought of losing Emmie is just – well, I don’t know what I’d do. It’s the one thing I don’t think I could bear. I thought Baby Charles dying was the worst, but losing Emmie—’ She started to cry.

‘Oh, my darling, you really have had such a cruel, horrible time, haven’t you? It’s so unfair and you’re so lovely.’

‘I’m not very lovely,’ said Eliza, sniffing, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. ‘I’m bad. I’ve been really bad. You don’t know—’

‘Unwise, maybe. Hardly grounds for custody though.’

‘It depends on the judge, my solicitor says. Jeremy, you wouldn’t be a witness for me, would you?’

‘Darling, of course I will. But – I’m the person who tempted you back to work. And who was your lover for a long time. Not sure your barrister would find that very satisfactory.’

‘Maybe not. Oh, God, what a mess. What a filthy, horrible mess. If I could only go back a year. So much of it was me being brattish, Matt being stubborn—’

‘Is it really too late now?’

She looked at him and sighed. ‘Oh, Jeremy, yes. Of course it is. Absolutely too late.’

‘Now you are not to be frightened, and remember I love you.’

She hadn’t got used to that yet. The sheer pleasure not just of hearing the words, but the way he spoke them. Very, very simply, and quietly and as if he was half-surprised himself to be saying them. Which, actually, he said he was.