The Winter Folly (29 page)

She gasped again, making a tiny squeak that could not begin to convey her horror at what she was witnessing inside her head.

Nicky leaned forward to her and said quietly, ‘It’s too awful, darling, and of course I wish it hadn’t happened. But it wasn’t our fault. You know that, don’t
you?’

She looked away, not able to say honestly that she did.

The inquest declared it an accidental death through careless driving. The injury on the dead man’s cheek was noted but it was assumed that it had been acquired during the
course of the accident. It was noted that Laurence Sykes had been in the vicinity of the reservoir after a visit to Fort Stirling but only Thomas was called upon to give evidence and he testified
that the deceased had drunk nothing and stayed only a short time. There had been no further questions, and Thomas offered nothing more. The coroner seemed satisfied with the verdict and the case
was closed.

It did not stop gossip, though. Alexandra knew that Thomas had seen the goings-on before Laurence had left and she dreaded to think what people might be saying. She feared that everyone would be
thinking what she herself thought: that the accident was no doubt a result of what Laurence Sykes had suffered at the hands of his vicious, immoral wife and the man who had cruelly cuckolded
him.

The letter came from the solicitor, sent to her father’s address and then forwarded to her with a curt, dark hand on the front of the envelope. Inside she was informed that, as his wife,
she was entitled to all of Laurence’s possessions and what was in his bank account at the time of his death. The circumstances of his death meant that the army regretted she would not be
eligible for a widow’s pension. She was informed that the funeral would be held the following week, and it told her the place and time.

‘Should I go?’ she said, holding out the letter to Nicky.

‘Of course not,’ he said, frowning. ‘I think it would be in extremely poor taste. You must send some flowers but no more than that.’

‘You’re right. I’ll return all the money to his family, of course,’ she said.‘I can hardly keep it, or his things. It wouldn’t be right.’

They gazed at each other. Alexandra didn’t know what to feel. Only a short time past she had loathed Laurence and hoped never to see him again. She could hardly rend her garments and tear
her hair now that he was dead. But she couldn’t shake the guilt she felt.

Perhaps I did hate him
, she thought,
but I never wanted him dead. I didn’t mean for him to die.

Nicky lifted one of her hands and kissed it. ‘You realise this means that you’re free now? We can be properly happy together.’

She looked at him with frightened eyes and said, ‘Do you think there’s something wrong with me, Nicky?’

‘Of course not,’ he said, looking astonished. ‘What do you mean?’

‘My mother . . . and now Laurence . . . I feel as if I’m bad luck somehow.’

‘That’s ridiculous. Of course you’re not. I’ve never heard anything so stupid.’ He pulled her close and kissed her. ‘You’re good luck to me. The best I
can imagine.’ He held her for a moment and she took comfort from his warm strength. If he loved her, she could face whatever she had to. He was the best thing in her life, and their love was
her salvation.

‘Alex,’ he said suddenly, ‘let’s go away. This place has become so gloomy, and we’re too close to your wicked old dad and the gossiping village. After what happened
to Laurence, I feel we need to seize the day and live life while we can. Why don’t we get away from it all? Let’s go to Africa. Or India. I want to take my camera and see some heat and
dust and some
reality.
I want to discover what the whole thing is about, what we’re
here
for. Don’t you?’

She considered it. The more she thought about it, the better the idea appeared. ‘Yes,’ she said wholeheartedly. She wanted to escape it all, just as he did. Her home was with Nicky
– wherever he was she could be happy. They could leave the misery and despair of this place and find new, untainted ones where they would be free. ‘Yes, it’s a marvellous
idea.’

‘And then,’ he said, clasping her hands, ‘when we get back, and this unpleasant business is forgotten, we’ll get married and be happy ever after – won’t
we?’

‘Yes,’ she said fervently. She didn’t tell him she was afraid that happiness won this way must surely come with its own price.

1967

‘Your ladyship! Oh, what a joy to see you!’

Quite a different welcome, Alexandra thought wryly, to the one she received on her first visit to the house over a year ago. Nevertheless, she was glad. She was respectable at last.

‘Hello, Mrs Spencer,’ she said, smiling at the small welcoming party. The servants were beaming, happy to put the old days behind them now that there was all this new excitement.

The housekeeper dashed forward, eager to get close. ‘Is this the little angel? Oh, may I see?’

Alexandra lowered the bundle she had pressed to her shoulder and carefully folded away the knitted blanket to reveal the small face inside. Its eyes were tightly shut, the little cupid’s
bow lips parted and the round cheeks flushed with sleep. He was the most beautiful thing she could possibly imagine, so it was only to be expected when Mrs Spencer went into raptures over the
perfection of the baby.

‘So, what do you think of my son?’ Nicky said, coming up behind Alexandra. ‘He’s a little champ, isn’t he?’

Mrs Spencer gave him a solemn but joyful look. ‘Oh, my lord, he’s the most wonderful baby. You must be so proud.’

‘I am.’ He took off his sunglasses. ‘This is John Valentine Stirling – my son and heir.’ He smiled down proudly at the baby and put his arm around Alexandra.
‘Haven’t I grown up, Mrs Spencer? I’m a husband and father now.’

‘You certainly have, my lord,’ the housekeeper said. ‘We heard the news about your wedding – what a shame you decided to get married abroad; we’d have loved a
wedding here, you know. It’s been many years since we’ve celebrated a proper Stirling wedding!’

‘We’ll see what we can do,’ Nicky said. ‘I’m sure we can arrange a party to celebrate everything: the wedding, John’s arrival and our homecoming.’

‘Darling,’ Alexandra said anxiously, ‘let’s get the baby inside. I don’t want him catching a chill.’

They’d been accustomed to a hot climate for so many months now that England seemed abysmally cold, even though it was summer here. They had left on their adventure as soon as it could be
arranged, though it took a few months – Alexandra needed a passport, for one thing – and it wasn’t until the spring that they had finally got on their way. As the coast of England
disappeared into the distance, she’d stood on board the deck of the boat taking them to France on the first leg of their journey, and had felt her spirits lift. Abroad, she could forget what
had happened in the past, and think only of that day, or even of the present hour. Life was just about her and Nicky, and whatever new sights and sounds the day brought her. She felt released from
what had gone before, and her past life seemed like a half-remembered dream. The sense of liberation she felt was intoxicating. On the ship, Nicky had slipped a gold band around her ring finger and
said, ‘Easier for us if everyone thinks we’re already married.’

She’d looked at it, marvelling. It wasn’t even a real wedding ring and yet it meant a hundred times more than her ring from Laurence ever had.

They took their time making their way to India, stopping wherever took their fancy or taking sudden detours when they felt like it; Nicky’s money gave them the freedom to do whatever they
wanted. As they left Europe behind, she took in new sights: deserts and mosques, camels and monkeys, long rattling trains that crossed vast distances crammed with people, with even more riding on
the roof and the platforms between the carriages. She learned to live with the heat and the dry dust, how to bargain for tea and fruit, and to wear a headscarf when it was required. Most of all,
she loved being with Nicky every minute, the two of them against the world. Everyone accepted without question that she was his wife, and she revelled in the way she could be with him without
feeling guilty or sordid.

When they finally reached India, they followed their whim to whichever adventure seemed most appealing. They travelled in battered vans or on crowded trains; sometimes they even rode elephants
as they explored the ancient cities or gazed out across the limitless landscape. Everything was strange and new: the colours, the smells, the food, and the punishing, never-ending heat.

It was in the hills above Darjeeling that they realised that Alexandra was expecting a baby. After a burst of excitement and worry about how to get home, they decided to continue with their
journey. They were free of the censorious eyes of the world here; Alexandra could grow bigger without gossip, and they could do things at their own pace. Neither of them thought to wonder what they
would do if there were problems with the pregnancy, sharing a simple blind faith that their baby would arrive safely when it was ready, and until then they had six months to do as they pleased.

Alexandra’s belly grew bigger and bigger and the only causes of anxiety were a nasty night of food poisoning and a dose of flu. The baby always kicked reassuringly afterwards and Alexandra
bloomed, happy in a way she had never known before. She was astonished at how pregnancy made her feel: she was in awe of her body’s power to build a tiny human being inside her without her
needing to do anything. She felt obscurely that she ought to be frightened of what was happening but she could only welcome it. Nicky’s child was being created inside her and she felt like a
precious vessel containing something holy. One day when they were visiting a temple, she was surrounded by women who touched her belly in awe and murmured what she thought must be blessings. She
felt like a goddess herself, being worshipped and adored.

But there was the problem of getting married. Even Nicky’s carefree attitude to convention was challenged by the thought that he would father a child without being married. He had the
future of Fort Stirling to consider and it would be no good to have a child out of wedlock, particularly if it were a son who then couldn’t inherit. Even in India, there was no escaping the
Fort entirely. They discussed marriage from time to time, and how they would manage it before the baby came, but always put it off for just a little while longer.

When they arrived on the crystal white beaches of Goa, with fringes of palm trees and huts on the sand within the sound of the waves, Alexandra knew from her tightly swollen belly that they
couldn’t delay much longer.

Nicky was sitting cross-legged at the entrance to their hut, smoking. He had discarded English clothes almost entirely since they’d arrived, and wore baggy white cotton trousers and an
embroidered waistcoat over a torso now burnt dark brown. He was watching the rhythm of the waves as they rolled into the shore, while he expelled clouds of sweet, fragrant smoke. He bought the
tobacco from a man who wandered up and down the beaches looking for tourists and it always seemed to calm him down.

‘Nicky?’ She lay on a soft mattress in the gloom of the hut, one hand on her belly, where she could feel the kicks and twitches of the baby.

‘Hmm?’

‘The baby will be here soon. The doctor I saw in Arambol told me that it was only six weeks at the most. The baby is a good size already, he told me. It might even come early.’

Nicky took a long drag on his cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke but said nothing. It was always a little harder to get through to him when he was smoking.

‘I’m scared,’ she said softly.

He turned to look at her, his face tender. ‘Don’t be scared. Your body will know what to do. It’s a miracle like that, the way you carry inside yourself the power to transmit
life. It’ll be fine, you won’t need to do a thing, your instinct will take over.’

Alexandra was silent for a moment, wondering if it would really be so easy. It was not how she had ever heard childbirth spoken of, even in the veiled, indirect way ladies had used. Then she
said, ‘But I don’t want to have this baby before we’re married. I couldn’t bear that.’

Nicky moved round on his haunches to face her properly. ‘I feel the same – and you’re right, we mustn’t risk it. I’ve got to make sure this little one has a name or
there’ll be no end of trouble. I’ll sort everything out tomorrow and we’ll do it as soon as we can.’

‘Thank you, darling.’ Alexandra lay back on the mattress, satisfied. This would be so different from the kind of wedding she had been brought up to expect – but then, she had
had that and what good had it been to her? Whatever this was, it would join her to the man she loved and create a family for her baby to be born into. That was all that mattered.

Nicky was as good as his word. After all the months of inaction, they were married a few days later in two separate ceremonies. The first was a dreamy and beautiful occasion. A
crowd of the people they had met in Goa, as well as local people, arrived to witness the wedding. Nicky waited on the beach in his baggy Indian trousers, a white collarless shirt and a white
spangled waistcoat, next to a local shaman who was to conduct the marriage. Alexandra walked over hot white sand to join him, wearing a red and gold sari that flowed elegantly over her vast bump,
and flowers in her hair. She didn’t understand much of the ceremony but at times their hands were joined together and incantations were muttered, fragrant spices burned in the fire that had
been set on the beach, and prayers offered to spirits of the earth and sky. At the end, she and Nicky sat together on an exquisitely embroidered rug while local men played sitars and drums as girls
in sparkling veils and haram pants danced, and the wedding feast lasted long into the velvety night. The beach looked so beautiful, illuminated by the bonfires burning along it, with music sounding
and people drinking and dancing in celebration, that Alexandra felt she was living in a dream of happiness. But she knew that this ceremony was just theatre. It was the other that really
mattered.