For who steals the charm of the dukkerin’s son
Will walk in his shadow, bleed with his blood
Cry loud with his anguish and suffer his pain
His unquiet spirit will rise again.
It was almost ten o’clock when Edward returned. Dewint made him fresh coffee and took it into the lounge. Edward stood staring into the fire, he turned a sheepish, sad face.
‘How is she, sir?’
‘Not too good, may be away for some time . . . I’ll be at the club if anyone wants me.’
Edward began his drinking again, staying out until the early hours of the morning. Dewint didn’t serve his breakfast often until noon. He always tapped nervously . . . afraid to wake him because he could have such terrible moods. This morning he was awake, and Dewint carried in his tray.
‘Mrs Barkley’s downstairs, sah . . . Mrs Barbara Barkley.’
Edward smiled, began to eat. ‘Show her up, and bring a bottle of champagne.’ Barbara walked in and tossed her mink on the bed. She noticed he was wearing only his pyjama bottoms, and the gold medallion around his neck.
‘Well, you proud of yourself? Alex says he’s tried to reason with you, now it’s my turn. He says you’ve been offered a lot of money for a percentage of the club. Well, I’ll match it if you back off, get rid of it.’
Dewint entered with the champagne and popped the cork, while Edward lay back, arms behind his head. Barbara waited until Dewint had gone then she sat down a good distance away. ‘Annabelle’s just married, everything is good right now, and Alex can’t afford to lose out on this thing he’s got going. Why do you do it, Edward? Why?’
Edward sipped his champagne and patted the bed for her to come and sit close. ‘Maybe I’m bored, maybe I’ve been through Alex’s trip and out the other side. I don’t care any more, I don’t give a fuck what the right people think of me, it doesn’t matter. You know, the only thing that does is money – need I say more? Look where it got you.’
Barbara threw the glass of champagne straight at his head. It splashed down the pillow and Edward laughed. ‘Do you really care what those stuffed shirts think? Who gives a shit? You got one life, Barbara, and I’ve spent most of mine licking other men’s fucking boots . . . Why don’t you get your clothes off and get into bed with me.’
Barbara slapped him and he caught her wrist. ‘Temper, temper . . . only teasing. But you can rest easy, I’ll be a good boy, no more headlines, all right? I was just bored, that’s all, don’t you ever get bored?’
He watched her sigh and pour herself another drink.
‘Now you’ve met the so-called English aristocrats, you telling me you really get on with those wankers?’
Barbara, walking to the window, asked him to refrain from speaking to her like a tart.
‘Ohhh, I’m sorry, I’ll mind my p’s and q’s, won’t use any naughty words in front of Her Ladyship. Why don’t you be honest, honey child, you’re as pissed off as I am . . .’
Barbara picked up her mink coat, slipped it round her shoulders. ‘I happen to like my life. Just because you have nothing worthwhile in yours, don’t think everyone feels the same way.’
She couldn’t have said anything worse. Edward threw back the bedclothes and stood, barring her exit. She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her and she tried to force him away. He held on, and she fought, kicked at him and scratched him, grabbed his hair. The leather thing holding it snapped, and his hair fell loose, down to his shoulders. Barbara resisted by letting her body go limp. ‘Please don’t, let me go, Edward. Don’t do this to me, please.’
He opened his arms, released her, and then cupped her face in his hands, gently. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry . . . go home to him, go home like a good girl.’
He moved back to the bed and sprang up on it, then flopped down like a child. The door closed and he glanced up; she was leaning against it. She began to unbutton her blouse, kicked off her shoes, and Edward, propped on one elbow, watched her. ‘You are a rare beauty, Barbara, you know that? Untie your hair.’
She sat on the edge of the bed and allowed him to toss her hairpins aside one by one . . . He eased her blouse away and with one finger unhooked her bra, kissing her shoulders, her back, and she leaned against him . . . He pulled her back until she lay across the bed, and he ran his hands through her hair. He began to ease her skirt off, and she made no move to either stop him or help him.
They lay side by side, one so fair, so blonde, and the other so dark . . .
‘You know, you look like him sometimes, and you both wear those medallions. What have you got on yours?’
Edward looked down at her and smiled. ‘Exactly what Alex has on his.’
He touched her breast, slowly tracing the nipple, then he whispered that perhaps she should just close her eyes and make believe he was Alex, and then she would be able to make regular visits . . .
‘Would you want me to?’
Edward kissed each of her breasts and said he would, he would like her here with him all the time. She held him, wrapped her arms around him and kissed his neck.
‘I want that too, you know I want that too.’
Edward hadn’t expected her to be quite so easy, but he did fancy her; she was a beauty. He made love to her gently, lovingly. She was slow to be aroused, she behaved straight, not seeming to want anything ‘unusual’ . . . and it was not until he had come into her that she started. He wouldn’t have minded a quick snooze, but she rolled on top of him. ‘You go to sleep, Mr Barkley, and I’ll suffocate you.’
She put the pillow over his face, told him to keep still and not move, then she got off the bed, went to the champagne bucket and brought back a handful of ice cubes, dumped them on the bedside table. She took one and ran it gently along the side of his thigh. He squirmed.
‘No, no, don’t move, you’ll like it . . . wait, you’ll like it.’
Edward grasped the pillow and pulled it over his face as the ice slithered over his body, between his thighs, his balls, until he was jumping, writhing . . . but she kept pushing him down, started to kiss and rub his chest. He tossed the pillow aside. ‘Where else have you got an ice cube, madam?’
Barbara leaned back, laughing, and eased him into her.
‘My God, where did you learn all this – Alex?’
She moved on top of him and smiled, Alex had not had this treatment, he preferred something else . . . ‘I’ll try out Alex’s treatment on you after, he always likes it a certain way . . . now why don’t you shut up talking about him and enjoy it.’
Edward pulled her down to him. ‘You think I’m not enjoying it? Well, I’ll teach you a few things.’
Lying awake in his room, Alex heard Barbara arrive home, and waited to see if she would come into his room. She tapped on his door and opened it.
‘Edward wouldn’t listen to me. I even offered to buy him out, but he was so beastly I went over to see Margaret and had a late dinner . . . I’ll see you in the morning, darling . . . night-night.’
Barbara was so exhausted she almost had to crawl the last few yards to her bed, and fell asleep instantly.
Edward hated Barbara to ring him at the office, and what had started out as a fling was now very heavy going. She would arrive at any hour she chose, never calling first, expecting him to be ready like a stud. Otherwise she would demand to meet him in hotels or secret restaurants.
Edward paid weekly visits to Harriet, but this time her recovery was slow. She had become a vegetarian, preparing for her release to eat her way back to health. She had endeared herself to so many nurses and patients it was difficult to have a private conversation with her. She knew everyone’s name, and her sunny nature made the doctors joke that no one ever wanted to leave. They also informed Edward in all seriousness that it was taking time because she was still afraid to leave the security of the nursing home. Edward was relieved, life was becoming a little tricky, with Barbara appearing whenever she chose. She had no regard for Harriet, and rarely asked about her.
‘I didn’t know you could have pets here?’ he said.
‘Oh, you can’t, not really, it was a toad, called Herbie, but she was very fond of him, she’s known him since he was a tadpole.’
‘Ah well, in that case they’d have a strong rapport.’
She laughed, and he pulled her close . . . then he sniffed.
‘God, what’s that smell?’
‘Manure . . . it’s the new perfume by Dior, very popular.’
As always she had him laughing, and he kissed her soil-stained face. ‘Want you home soon, Dewint is walking around like Dracula’s mother . . .’
He felt her tense up, then she was serious. ‘I’ll come home when I’m strong, won’t be too long, okay?’ She waved him goodbye from behind the gates, placing the trowel to her lips and giving him a Hitler salute. She returned to her tomato plants and he to a young, skinny model he had begun an affair with. He was in a very good mood, perhaps it was because he knew Harry would be home soon.
Dewint looked disdainfully at the young girl. Edward took him aside and gave him strict instructions that if Mrs Barkley, Mrs Barbara Barkley, was to call he was not available – ever. He knew he could get rid of the model easily enough, but Barbara was too close, too dangerous when Harry came home, he didn’t want anything to upset her.
Dewint tapped on the bedroom door. Even though he had told Mrs Barkley that Edward was not at home, she was refusing to leave. She swept past him, straight into the bedroom, and closed the door in his face.
‘What the hell are you playing at, giving that idiot orders to say to me, to me, that you are not in when I know damned well you are?’
The poor, nervous ‘beanpole’ hovered in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her skinny body. Barbara shouted that it was the third time she had tried to see Edward, and that he had not returned any of her calls, but she was stunned into silence when the bathroom door opened and the girl, pink with embarrassment stood there, shaking.
‘Get this thing out of here, Edward, and fast – I mean it.’
Edward kissed his little girlfriend and handed her her clothes, saying he was sorry but there was obviously some kind of family crisis . . . It was nothing, ‘she’ was just his sister-in-law.
Dewint was given the nod to get the girl out, and Edward wrapped his dressing gown around himself and went to join Barbara in the lounge.
‘You bastard, you bastard, why haven’t you answered my calls? Because that, whatever you call it, was in your bed? Why don’t you grow up, you’re a bit old for her, aren’t you? What is she, sixteen, seventeen?’
Edward lit a cigar and lay on the sofa. ‘She’s actually twenty-two, but she looks younger . . . was there something you wanted?’
Barbara walked around to the other side of the sofa so she could face him. ‘I’m pregnant.’
Edward beamed and congratulated her, said Alex would be thrilled.
‘It isn’t Alex’s, it’s yours, it’s yours. If you recall, when I first came here I didn’t happen to have my cap in my handbag . . .’
‘So what do you want to do about it?’
She sighed, asked him what he wanted to do about it. He walked to the window, pushed it open. ‘Will you tell Alex? I know a good doctor . . .’
Barbara stepped away from him as though she’d been slapped. ‘What did you say . . .?’
‘I said I know a good doctor who will see you, be over with, if that’s what you want . . .’
‘What do you want, you bastard?’
Edward sighed, rubbing his head. ‘Does Alex have any idea about us?’
Barbara opened her handbag and took out her compact, began dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘No . . . no he doesn’t, and he won’t. He’ll think it’s his, I’ll make sure of it.’
She blew her nose and refreshed her lipstick, but her eyes filled with tears. ‘You know, I thought you really cared about me. But you don’t care about anyone, do you? I must have been out of my mind. Well, I’m going to make it up to him, so stay away from me and if you so much as even hint at what has gone on between us I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’
‘Give me some credit, for Chrissake, he is my brother . . . He’ll not hear it from me, you have my word on it.’
He heard the snap of her compact, then she sniffed. ‘Well, do something for him. Get rid of that club, sell it, do whatever you have to, but don’t be involved in it any more.’
‘Okay, if that’s what you want.’
‘Even more than that, I want you to stay out of our lives, stay away from us, and leave him alone. He’s decent . . . I wish to God I’d never met you.’
When she had gone, Edward poured himself a brandy. What a bloody mess. Part of him, the part that had always wanted an heir, was saddened by the fact that, of all the women in the world, the one who carried the child he’d always wanted should be his brother’s wife.
Dewint came in to say that if Edward was going to visit Harriet, he should set out soon to avoid the traffic.
‘Ahhh, yes, we must avoid the traffic at all cost. Right, let’s get on the road then. Did you get some flowers and the things she likes from the vegetarian shop?’
‘Yes, sah, everything’s here. You’ll give her my love, won’t you?’
Edward took the carrier bag and nodded, saying quietly, ‘Yes, old fella, I’ll give her your love.’
Harriet was waiting for him in the sunny lounge. She sprang up and hurried towards him. She looked wonderful, and it never ceased to amaze him how quickly she changed. The terrible, drawn, haggard look had been replaced by a youthful bloom.
‘I have some news. I’ve been bursting to tell you, but I wanted to see your face when I told you – guess what?’
‘Why don’t you try telling me, and here – all the stuff you wanted from that weird shop.’
‘Oh, I’m coming home! Still, we can take it back with us . . .’ Her laugh bubbled up and eventually he was caught by her good spirits.
‘So, what is it, eh? What do you want to tell me?’
‘You are going to be a father.’
He stared, open-mouthed, then swallowed. He looked around the room, then back to her in disbelief. For a moment he was so confused he was speechless.
‘I – am – going – to – have – a – baby . . .’
Book Six
Chapter Twenty-Three
After the initial shock, Edward set about preparing for fatherhood like a military campaign. He dragged Harriet to every possible doctor and discussed any foreseeable problems with the pregnancy. Harriet was tested, pummelled and prodded by the best gynaecologists in Harley Street. They discussed at length whether or not she should keep on with her medication. It was decided that she should stop, unless it became necessary again, as she wanted to breastfeed the baby. Edward read every book he could find about expectant mothers, babies, and depression. He was worried because Harriet’s age put her in a high-risk category.
He had even discussed this with Alex as Barbara was even older. Alex suggested that Edward talk the matter over with Barbara, but felt that as she had already had two children, she was not unduly worried. Barbara was the last person Edward could talk to, instead he took himself off to yet another specialist. He wanted to know the risks of mongolism, and whether the child could inherit its mother’s manic depression. He also brought up the matter of Harriet’s age. Edward had always lacked a great deal as a husband, but now, his care and attention to every detail was touching. His misgivings were discussed thoroug
hly by the specialist, and relieved by his confidence that after all the examinations Mrs Barkley should have a perfectly normal birth and most important, a healthy child. Edward even held the instruction book for Harriet while she learned the exercises. He attended sessions with a nurse brought in to instruct them both, and didn’t appear to mind panting and puffing alongside Harriet. A lot of the time she got into such fits of giggles that he was the only one left panting, the nurse standing over him telling him how to push. But under his loving care, she blossomed.
Harriet began to feel she had finally turned a corner in her life. She paid careful attention to her health, and took great pains to obey her doctors’ orders to the letter. Her vegetarian meals were carefully chosen and cooked to give her a balanced diet. She was blissfully happy, and what made her happiest of all was Edward’s adoration.
Work and the office could not be further from Edward’s mind. But when he received an urgent call from Skye Duval, Harriet persuaded him to go. He was reluctant to leave her, but she insisted.
Barbara heard about Harriet’s pregnancy from Alex. Edward had been loath to tell anyone about the forthcoming event because he wanted to be one hundred per cent sure nothing could go wrong. It was bizarre that both brothers should be expectant fathers, but even more ironic that both wives should be carrying Edward’s children. Alex had not the slightest notion that Barbara’s baby was not his, and was as excited and overwhelmed with the prospect of having a child as Edward. But Alex was left to run the company virtually single-handed, as Edward had done his usual disappearing act.
Alex had discovered the deeds for Banks on his desk the day Barbara told him she was expecting his child. He felt it was a lucky sign, that Edward had agreed to sell. He had no idea of the part his wife had played in persuading Edward to agree to the sale.
At first Alex presumed that the club was an embarrassment because of the bad press it had received, but when it was put on the market the interest didn’t come from the seedy club world he had once known. It was eventually sold to two financiers, both with excellent reputations in the City.
The Talisman Page 55
