Strangers in a Garden

by Deanna Maclaren

  Rex Salter! He’d come back!

  Lol was at the door. Through the frosted glass, she reported that she could make out a female form, dressed in pink.

  ‘Gardien’s wife?’ suggested Laura, knowing it wasn’t because the gardien’s wife would have rung the bell.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Lol’s face was the colour of evaporated milk. ‘It’s Cressida. I’m sure it’s Cressida.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Lol! Lolita! Open this door!’

  When Lol didn’t answer, Cressida raged on. ‘I must speak to Tom.’

  ‘He’s not here.’

  ‘He bloody well is there. And I’m taking him back home. Now open this bloody door.’

  ‘I assure you –‘

  ‘If you don’t open this door, I’ll break it down.’

  ‘ Don’t be so ridiculous.’

  Lol walked away. Laura, facing the door, had a clear view of what happened next. There was an almighty crash and Laura, astounded, saw Cressida smashing through the frosted glass with her bare fists, finding the indoor handle, turning it, walking in.

  It wasn’t the blood on her hands, her arms, that turned Laura to stone. It was the menacing smile on Cressida’s face. Sweet and lethal, all at the same time. At once, Laura understood Lol’s terror when Cressida had tried to run her down in South Audley Street.

  Tom, for the moment, seemed on top of the situation. With a trembling Lol trying to hide behind him, he showed no surprise at the unexpected visitor. ‘I must say, Cressida, you really give a new meaning to the term gatecrasher.’

  Looking at Tom and Lol, Cressida’s eyes glittered with malicious intent. Now I can really have fun! But first she spat at Laura,

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I live here. And you are trespassing.’ And I’m going to have a very hard time explaining to Richard about that door.

  ‘You’re a viper!’ Cressida screamed. ‘You went to bed with my husband.’

  ‘He wasn’t your husband then.’

  ‘I was at Findhorn, trying to find myself. Instead I find that you’ve seduced him and encouraged him to take disgusting photos. When Mikey showed them to me –‘

  ‘Mikey! I knew he had something to do with this.’

  ‘Tom had thought, didn’t you Tom, they were safely hidden in his London studio. But since Tom and his Mikey had fallen out, Mikey showed them to me, and when the time was right, I sent them to the newspaper.’

  ‘You did that? You rat.’ Laura paused. ‘Why did Tom and Mikey fall out? They seemed to get along all right at your wedding.’

  Tom poured them all brandies, but Cressida pushed hers aside. She said, from her lofty position on the moral high ground, ‘Alcohol is a slow death, Tom.’

  He gave a wry smile. ‘So who wants it to be quick?’

  Cressida was bleeding onto the limestone floor, examining the splinters of glass embedded in her skin as if they were precious jewels. Well I’m not rushing forth with the first-aid box, Laura decided. Those are self-inflicted injuries. My job is just to mop the floor.

  She said, ‘I’ll go and speak to the gardien. That door will have to be repaired tonight. Otherwise you won’t feel safe.’

  At the gardien’s office she found him, the man who knew everything, already on the phone to the glazier and the emergency locksmith.

  ‘You’ll need the dimensions of the door, the glass,’ Laura said.

  He shook his head. ‘All the doors here are the same size. And all the lifts are big enough to take a coffin.’ Laughing wildly at this, he informed her that the repairs would be carried out within the hour.

  Laura was impressed, until she considered what the maintenance charges were at Lilas. Plus the fact that this couldn’t have been the first time that a glass door had been shattered.

  She returned, with great reluctance, to apartment eight where, as she’d dreaded, the major row was in full spate. Tom, having cleaned Cressida up, was saying as little as possible while he picked bits of glass out of her arms and deposited them in an ashtray.

  Lol chainsmoked. Cressida was on the attack about Tom falling out with Mikey. ‘Didn’t you realise, you thick-headed Celtic peasant, Mikey was jealous. Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that Tom isn’t just interested in girls. He likes boys as well.’

  Lol simply stubbed out her cigarette and yawned. ‘For heaven’s sake. Of course I knew that. It’s what makes Tom such a versatile lover. Not that you’d have even noticed, you frigid cow.’

  Women and men. It had never occurred to Laura that such things happened.

  As the row banged on, Laura knew, with absolute certainty, that Lol hadn’t known about Tom’s varied sex life. But being Lol, and with the confidence now of being an international recording star, with all the pressures, competition and jealousy that were part of this way of life, Lolita was not going to allow Cressida to get the better of her.

  The gardien was at the open door. With him were his wife, the locksmith and the glazier. Also on the landing, grinning broadly, was Rex Salter.

  Laura shouldered her way through the throng. ‘You toad. How long have you been lurking here?’

  He laughed, ‘Long enough, sweetie.’

  ‘I didn’t see you when I went to fetch the gardien.’

  ‘I know. Nearly broke my neck diving down the stairs.’

  ‘Well clear off.’

  ‘I will. For the time being.’

  Raging, Laura returned to the apartment. ‘That’s it, Lol. Your cover’s blown. That creep was a photographer called Rex Salter.’

  ‘Keep calm’ Tom said. ‘You don’t know when he’s going to break the story. Or who to.’

  Laura glared at Cressida. ‘And don’t you start getting any funny ideas.’

  Cressida smiled at her, sweetly.

  Laura spent the evening trying to write some lyrics. She’d never admitted to Adrian, to anyone, that she’d always hankered after doing some writing. It had been so frustrating at McAllisters, just copying seasonal stuff out of Womens’ Wear Daily. Laura supposed she should have kept a Riviera diary, but there always seemed to be something else to do. Politicians kept diaries for years. Perhaps it just showed they didn’t have enough to do.

  What on earth was going to happen in apartment eight? Cressida was no Dinah Monteith. All right, Diddley Pom had given a lengthy interview to the Daily Express, but it was all couched in private conversations she’d had with Hugo, oh breathy, blush, blush, how they’d always had a well – active sex life. Tell that to the marines, Laura had laughed. And of course, Dinah had been loftily disparaging towards Laura, while affecting touching sympathy for the unfortunate ‘victim’ – Marla.

  Dinah and Cressida were both women scorned, but there the similarity ended. Cressida was vengeful, theatrical and determined to be at the centre of the melodrama. And she photographed well.

  Laura left them alone all morning, and when she went round, found them just finishing lunch. Tom was busying about with cheese. Lol looked nervous. Cressida, ignoring her, was demonstrating injured dignity.

  ‘Tom, I should like you to come home with me today. Now.’ As if Mayfair was just a short stroll down the road from Menton. Laura was wondering who had slept with who last night.

  Tom said shortly, ‘I’m staying with Lol.’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘Well,’ Laura said, ‘the glazier made a good job of the door.’

  Cressida said, with deadly calm, ‘I don’t care about the fucking door.’

  ‘Well I care because my brother will have to pay for it.’

  ‘I’ll pay for it,’ said Tom. ‘No need to bother your brother.’

  ‘What I do care about,’ Cressida went on, ‘is my marriage. I love you, Tom. I know you think I wear my heart on my sleeve but that doesn’t make my emotions any less true. Less honest.’

  To Laura’s horror, she flung herself on her knees and clutched at his knees. ‘Tom, I beg you. Please don’t leave me. Lol will find someone else. H
er sort always does. But for me, there can only be you. There has always only been you.’

  Oh really? thought Laura. What about the layabout first husband?

  But Cressida was obviously relishing every second of this. Centre stage, drama queen, captive audience.

  Except, big Tom was making a break for it. He shook off Cressida and stood up. ‘Going for a walk.’

  ‘I’ll come,’ Lol and Laura said in unison.

  He said,‘Cressida?’

  She had slumped on the sofa. Her eyes were distant.

  ‘No, I’ll stay here.’

  Oh good, thought Laura. You can do the washing up.

  Cressida crumbled a piece of bread and said, like someone speaking from a long way away,

  ‘I think I’ll just kill myself.’

  They walked by a sullen sea, not speaking much, except when Lol stuttered, ‘I knew something terrible was going to happen. I just knew.’ Although it wasn’t cold, Lol was shivering and Tom gave her his sweater.

  As they strolled back to Lilas, they heard screaming. It was coming from their apartment block. ‘I knew,’ whispered Lol. ‘I just knew.’

  The three of them kicked into a run. Tom got there first and was seized on by a frantically weeping woman who lived in the apartment downstairs.

  ‘Everything is ruined! My bed. My carpets. It is everywhere!’

  ‘What’s everywhere?’

  ‘The water. The water!’

  Laura turned to Lol. ‘Go and knock up the gardien from his siesta.’

  Leaving Tom, heroically, to deal with their hysterical neighbour, Laura raced upstairs. The half-glazed front door was locked.

  Of course. The emergency locksmith hadn’t thought to leave her a key.

  Oh well, Laura sighed. She’d never smashed a door in before, but if Cress could achieve it, Laura was not going to be outdone.

  ‘May I be of assistance?’

  Laura whirled round. Rex Salter. Suave as ever, not a lock of his brillianteened hair out of place. He was tying a green-spotted handkerchief round his right hand. And then, with commendable skill, he smashed open the door.

  He was first through, but Laura shoved ahead of him.

  ‘Bathroom,’ Rex said tersely.

  So Laura was first on the scene.

  The bathroom floor was awash with water. The bath taps had been turned on full, and were still running. Cressida, naked, was lying face down in the bath, her long hair floating like golden seaweed.

  Rex, the handerchief still round his hand, turned off the taps. As Laura stretched out a hand to Cressida, he said sharply, ‘Don’t touch her.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘She’s a gonner.’

  Camera ready, as always, he was firing off shots of the naked woman in the bath.

  Laura said faintly, ‘I can’t believe any British newspaper would print that.’

  ‘No, but the Italians might. Anyway, no matter for now. They’re for my archive, my pension.’

  Laura turned to the handbasin, and retched. When she emerged, shaky, shocked and still feeling sick, she was in time to stop Lol from witnessing what had happened in the bathroom.

  ‘The gardien was already on the phone. He said they’d –’

  But they were already here. The fire brigade, the ambulance, the police. The gardien and his wife arrived at apartment eight too, and, at last, Tom, having been obliged by the woman who’s flat had flooded to do what he hated, be the big reliable man in a crisis.

  Rex took Laura aside. ‘Looks like you’ve got your hands full. So I’ll push off.’

  She said coldly. ‘Sure there’s nothing more I can do for you, Rex?’

  He regarded her. ‘I suppose a fuck would be out of the question?’

  As he disappeared, Laura thought, hell, Cressida. This time, the train is well and truly going to hit the buffers.

  Lol’s people swung into immediate action and spirited her away.

  ‘She’ll be at what they call a safe house, ‘Tom told Laura. ‘Probably up in the Var. Very remote.’

  They were on their way to the inquest. Laura was dreading it, but an interpreter was provided, the atmosphere was discreet and sympathetic, and the Press were not admitted.

  Not that this would have worried Rex Salter. He had broken the story on Sunday, to The People. Laura saw it when the paper arrived in Menton two days later.

  ‘World Exclusive by Rex Salter.

  Dateline Menton, South of France.

  The Countess of Ashcroft was found dead in her bath yesterday. It is believed she took her own life after discovering a ménage à trois involving her husband, the Earl, the singer Lolita and party-girl Laura James.

  The drama began when…’

  And on it went, adorned by the inevitable photos of Cressida at her wedding, and Laura naked on the floor. There was also a pic of Tom hitting the bit-part actor after the wedding, with a veiled reference from Rex about ‘Tom’s friendships,’ just stopping short of saying outright that Tom liked screwing boys.

  Laura groaned, fetched a glass of wine, and waited for the call from Richard. He ranted on for a good twenty minutes. Laura was on her second cigarette and second glass of wine when he demanded,

  ‘And this Tom character. A bit rum, isn’t he? Where exactly is he now?’

  ‘At Nice airport. Escorting his late wife back to England.’

  ‘Well she won’t get a Christian burial. Suicides don’t.’

  Laura thought this was unnecessarily nasty of Richard.

  ‘For heaven’s sake. This is the Earl and Countess of Ashcroft. Tom’s hardly going to allow her to be flung into some pauper’s grave.’

  ‘Best thing you can do is pack up in Menton and get yourself back to Blighty.’

  Laura waited for him to add that it was a pretty poor show, but instead he put her on to Penny.

  As soon as Penny had, finally, rung off, the phone rang again and Lol said breathlessly, ‘Oh Laura, it’s awful here.’

  ‘Where exactly are you?’

  ‘I don’t know. This jailor woman they’ve given me won’t tell me. She’s ghastly. Marches about in army-style boots.’

  ‘What’s outside? That must give you some clues.’

  ‘Trees. Just trees.’

  ‘Can you go out?’

  ‘She let me go for a little walk on my own. Must have known, it’s all so isolated, no footpaths, just trees. And then, I nearly fainted with fright, there was this wild animal. As high as me. Looked like a brown and black scouring pad. I didn’t know whether to run or stand there or sing or what. Then a man came along. He was so nice.’

  Trust Lol. Trust Lol to meet a White Knight, deep in a strange forest.

  ‘He told me,’ Lol gulped, ‘the thing was a wild boar. He said they were quite tasty to eat. Anyway, he took me within sight of the house, the bloody prison, and he’s going to help me escape.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘The jailor drives down to the market each morning. She locks me in, but so what, I’ll break a window.’

  Laura wished now she hadn’t let the smarmy Rex Salter smash the door in. She should have done it herself. As it was, she was beginning to feel quite left out.

  ‘Where will you go, Lol?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve spoken to Dinkie. There’s a meeting on the steps, first Saturday in March. You will come, won’t you? It’ll be Spring.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sliding into the cerise Mercedes, Laura felt, for once in her life, perfectly dressed for the occasion. She had seen an old advertisement for Le Train Bleu, the glamorous train which swept its fortunate passengers from Paris to the French Riviera.

  The girl in the advertisement was wearing an ivory fitted suit with a cream coat over one arm. She was carrying a dressing case and a shiny clutch bag. Her hair was shingled and topped with a cloche, fashionable at the time, but hastening one morning towards the Nice shops, Laura had decided to ditch the cloche and simply concentrate on seeking out the rest of the ensemble. />
  Usually when she had something firmly in mind, she could never find it, but luck was with her that day. She found the suit quite quickly and then, in the window of another shop, the coat.

  ‘You see, it is very light,’ urged the vendeuse. ‘It is finest cashmere. Perfect for the Spring, non?’

  Not exactly perfect for Laura’s bank balance, but she thought, what the hell and headed for the leather shop to buy a dressing case and clutch bag in glossy chocolate brown.

  When the gardien had learned that she was flying to Scotland, he had insisted on driving her to Nice airport. On the plane, in memory of her very first flight to Renfrew, and to celebrate her stunning ‘Train Bleu’ ensemble, Laura ordered a gin and tonic.

  Thus stiffened, she was able to review her last conversation with Penny.

  ‘Richard is never going to get promotion at his present school. Not now. Not with all this Cressida business.’

  Thanks, Rex, Laura thought hotly, signalling to the spruce hostess for another gin. Not only have you treated my life like old potato peelings, now you’ve fucked it up for my brother as well.

  ‘We’re having to move, Laura. Richard’s been offered a headship at a boarding school in Cullercoates. ‘

  ‘Cullercoates? Is that in Scotland?’

  ‘No, Tyneside. All the absentee parents will approve because it’s very remote, and very bracing.’

  ‘But your girls – their ponies.’

  ‘Oh, they’ll be dotty about boys soon. And John-John doesn’t care as long as he can take his toy sword. We’ve found Mother a new nursing home. She can take her own furniture, but it’s got huge, high-ceilinged rooms. All her sweet cottage furniture would get completely lost. I need a few imposing pieces and fortunately Mrs Percival’s daughter knows someone who’s just sold a castle…’

  On Glasgow’s West Side, Laura asked the taxi driver to set her down at the entrance to Arundell Terrace. She wanted the girls to see her approach in the ivory suit, with the cashmere coat over her arm.

  Except, the girls weren’t there.

  Laura was sure she’d got the right date. First Saturday in March, Dinkie had said. So where were they?