‘You had lunch with Piers? What, at his agent’s office?’
‘No,’ said Jolyon, ‘at the Ivy actually. Celebration. Of my involvement with the Chekhov, you know?’
‘Yes,’ said Chloe slowly. ‘I do know. This was just a sudden thing was it, Jolyon?’
‘Well – fairly sudden. He called me very early to arrange it and to tick me off about the scarf and suggested it.’
‘What’s very early? Before breakfast?’
‘Oh yes. Around seven thirty. He woke me up.’
‘I see.’ Keep calm, Chloe, it probably means nothing; just Piers playing Mystery Man as usual. ‘And why was he cross about the scarf?’
‘Well, because he gave it to me. The other day.’
‘Piers gave you that scarf? Jolyon, it must have cost a fortune. What on earth for?’
‘Oh – I did him a small favour. Suggested someone who could paint a mural for a friend of his.’
‘That’s a pretty big thank-you present,’ said Chloe. She felt very sick, and was too frightened even to think why.
‘Do you mind, darling, if I stay in London this weekend?’ said Piers. ‘I have so much to do.’
‘Of course not. I’d quite like a London weekend myself.’
‘Oh, no, sweetheart, you mustn’t do that. You know how the children love to go to Stebbings.’
‘Piers, they don’t care where they are. As long as they’re with us. And Pandora is with you.’
‘But darling, Pandora wants to ride. She told me so.’
‘She can ride in London. In the park, she likes that too.’
‘Well – oh, all right. But it’s going to be fearfully boring, lots of chat about Chekhov.’
‘I’ll stay out of your way,’ said Chloe briskly.
Two hours later the phone rang.
‘Mrs Windsor, this is Peter.’
Peter Walton was the new groom Piers had hired. He was very nice; she liked him.
‘Oh, hallo, Peter. There’s not a problem is there?’
‘No problem at all, Mrs Windsor. But I just had a call from a yard in Oxford, and they’ve got a pony for Pandora for you to look at. He sounds perfect, little grey, thirteen hands, very good temperament. The thing is they say they can only hold him for a few days. Could you come over on Saturday with me?’
‘Well – oh, yes, all right, Peter. I was going to stay in London this weekend, but Pandora would never forgive me if we lost the perfect pony.’
‘She certainly wouldn’t.’
The pony was very nice: dish-faced, with a very long forelock hanging almost into his calm eyes. His name was Misty. Pandora fell in love with him.
‘Please, Mummy, please. I want him so much.’
‘Well, I’ll have to ask Daddy. I’ll phone him now.’
‘She likes him,’ she said to Piers, laughing. ‘What shall I do? Buy him?’
‘Well – you’re not the greatest judge of horseflesh. I’d like to have a look at him myself, I think.’
‘But, Piers, they can’t keep him after tomorrow. Peter thinks he’s very nice.’
‘OK, I’ll have a look at him tomorrow. I’ll come down. Around lunch-time, can’t make it before.’
‘But I was going to come back to London.’
‘Well don’t. Stay down there, and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Oh – all right,’ said Chloe. She was very tired. She didn’t really fancy driving all the way back to London with three fractious children. Rosemary had the weekend off.
She made them all high tea, sat and watched The Muppets with them, and put them to bed. Then she poured herself a large glass of wine, and settled down in front of the television again with the Radio Times to plan her evening.
The offerings on TV were predictably fatuous; but late on BBC2 she noticed there was a documentary on theatre designers, one of whom was Lydia Wintour. Jolyon ought to see that; he’d never notice it for himself. She picked up the phone and dialled his number. There was no reply.
Well, there wouldn’t be, on a Saturday night, she told herself, and then wondered if Piers would like to see the programme. She phoned the house: there were several rings and then the answering machine clicked on. Funny. Obviously Piers didn’t want to be disturbed. She waited for the message to begin, and then stiffened, her hands gripping the receiver so tightly her knuckles were white. It was a new message, in Piers’s most actory voice, even a little pompous: ‘This is Piers Windsor. And no, I’m not actually here. Sorry. But leave a message and I’ll ring you before the evening is out. And thank you so much for calling.’ It wasn’t the message that upset Chloe; before it cut to the bleep there was a lot of scuffling and then a sudden fit of giggling in the background. She knew that giggle. It was Jolyon.
OK, Chloe, keep calm. So Jolyon’s there. Why shouldn’t he be? He’s part of that production. Of course he would be. And of course Piers wouldn’t have mentioned it, he never does tell me more than he absolutely has to. It was just coincidence about the pony, making me stay in the country. All weekend. Of course it was. Piers wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t do such a thing. Not even Piers. Just have another glass of wine and stop being hysterical.
He phoned at nine thirty, sounding contrite. ‘Darling! I’m so sorry. We were engrossed in casting and I just couldn’t bear the thought of being interrupted. What can I do for you?’
‘Oh – nothing. There’s a programme on later. Lydia’s in it. I thought you might want to see it.’
‘Bless you, darling, how sweet of you. I will watch it, if I possibly can. We’re pretty engrossed here.’
‘Who’s we, Piers?’
‘Oh – Geoffrey. Of course. Jim.’
‘Jim Prendergast? Why is he there?’
‘Because we’re talking money, darling. You don’t seem to believe me. Do you want to speak to him?’
‘Of course not. Who else?’
‘What’s this, the tenth degree? Tabitha, actually. I want her for Masha and by a miracle she may be free.’
‘Oh. Is – is Jolyon there?’
‘Jolyon? Of course not. Why on earth should he be?’
‘Oh – I don’t know. I thought if you were really talking Chekhov –’
‘Darling, I adore your brother, but I don’t think he has that much to offer just yet. Now we’ll watch the programme if we can, and bless you for thinking of me. Goodnight, darling. Meet you at the yard tomorrow. Get Peter to come along, won’t you?’
‘What? Oh, yes, of course, Goodnight, Piers.’
She waited until nearly eleven and rang Jolyon again: and at twelve. No reply. Obviously he was out clubbing somewhere.
Misty was pronounced everything Piers would have wished and duly purchased; Peter drove him back in the box to Stebbings and Piers and Chloe went back to London in convoy, Pandora weeping copiously all the way because having finally got her pony she was now not to see him until the following Friday. In the end Chloe flashed Piers down in the Rolls and transferred Pandora into it. ‘She’s your daughter,’ she said slightly grimly. ‘You deal with her,’ and went again before he could argue. He shot off at a great speed towards London, and when she got back Pandora was asleep on the sofa.
‘She’ll be fine now,’ he said, looking down at her adoringly. ‘She’s so terribly excited, bless her little heart. I’ve promised we won’t make her get off Mr Misty next Saturday even to have her lunch.’
‘Oh, Piers,’ said Chloe wearily, ‘she’ll hold you to that.’
‘That’s fine. You won’t have to do a thing.’
Next morning was lyrically beautiful: spring had arrived. Chloe shook off her morbid suspicions, drove Pandora and Ned to school and then, taking herself by surprise, rang her mother. She made a huge effort to keep in touch with her for the children’s sake
; she knew if she didn’t she would probably only see her once a year at the most.
‘Mummy? It’s me. I wondered if you’d like a visit some time this week or next, just for a couple of days. Piers is so busy, and I’d love to come and see you. I could leave Pandora in London with Rosemary and just bring the little ones.’
Caroline sounded unusually flustered. ‘Oh, Chloe. How nice. Well, of course it would be lovely, but – well which day were you thinking of?’
‘I don’t know. Whichever would suit you.’
‘Well, I’m not sure, Chloe. Not next week. I’m rather busy. The new horses, you know, and everything. Perhaps the next one. Ring me again. Nearer the time.’
‘Oh. Oh, all right,’ said Chloe. She felt surprisingly hurt. ‘I – I don’t have to be looked after all the time, Mummy. I am family.’
‘Yes, of course. But – well, if you do come I’d like to have time for you. I’m sorry, but we have two of the new mares being covered next week and – well, it just isn’t a good time. How are you?’ she added, clearly feeling she was not being maternally correct.
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ said Chloe coolly. ‘Well, Mummy, just ring me when you have time. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye, Chloe. See you soon. Oh, and Chloe –’
‘Yes, Mummy?’
‘Thank Piers for taking such an interest in Jolyon, would you? He had such a marvellous time on Saturday.’
‘On when?’ said Chloe. The day had darkened around her; she tried to fight down her panic.
‘On Saturday. Was it? Yes, because it went on into Sunday. When Piers had that great meeting at your house. Jolyon was so flattered to be asked.’
‘Yes,’ said Chloe, ‘yes, of course I will.’
Chloe went into the small room she called her sitting room and wrote a letter to Piers telling him she was leaving him and why. Then she told Rosemary to pack some of the children’s clothes together, they were going to stay with her mother for a few days.
‘I know Pandora shouldn’t miss school, but I need the break. I’m sorry. You don’t have to come: take the rest of the week off.’
She packed some things for herself, and spent the rest of the morning pacing the house. At lunch-time she sent Rosemary to get Ned from nursery school and collect Pandora from school. She told her teacher that her mother wasn’t well and that she had to go and stay with her for a few days. Pandora was delighted.
‘Goody. Will Jack take me riding? Could we have Misty brought over?’
‘Darling, it’s much too far. But I’m sure Jack will ride with you.’
‘Is Daddy coming?’
‘No,’ said Chloe. ‘Daddy isn’t.’
She arrived at the Moat House soon after seven. She hadn’t rung her mother; she couldn’t face the excuses. If she arrived, Caroline would have to keep them all. She had to go somewhere and she didn’t want to go to Stebbings or a hotel. And she had a somewhat surprising yearning, in the midst of all this misery, for Suffolk. Suffolk and home.
As she pulled into the drive, she saw a huge motorbike parked by the front door.
‘Motorbike,’ said Ned excitedly. ‘Want to ride it.’
‘Edmund, you can’t. I wonder whose it is. Some workman, I suppose.’ The front door was locked; she went round to the back of the house, carrying Kitty. The kitchen, the downstairs of the house was deserted. Pandora and Ned were running round the garden, released from the boredom of the journey; she called her mother’s name. No reply. Kitty was soaking wet; she would have to change her. She carried her up the stairs, to the old nursery; there were still some threadbare old nappies there. Nanny used to say with great pride that both Caroline and Chloe had worn them.
As she went along the corridor, she heard a noise. A loud, strange noise: a wild desperate cry. It came from the nursery bathroom. What on earth was going on? It sounded as if some wounded animal or something might be there.
‘Mummy?’ she called, anxious, fearful. The cry halted; she half ran down the long corridor, hanging on to Kitty, fumbled with the handle, pushed the door quietly open.
Lying on the bathmat stark naked, with Magnus Phillips astride her, was her mother, her arms flung back, her eyes meeting Chloe in a mixture of shock, embarrassment and – without doubt – more than a flash of humour.
‘Chloe, have a drink!’ Magnus, dressed now in a towelling bathrobe, a delighted Ned hanging round his knees, waiting for his promised ride on the bike, was clearly enjoying the situation.
‘No, thank you,’ said Chloe. ‘I don’t want a drink.’
‘You need a drink.’
‘I don’t need one either.’
‘Chloe, have a drink. And try to be a little more sensible.’
‘Sensible! I find you and my mother making love on the nursery floor, and you tell me to be sensible.’
‘She is over twenty-one,’ said Magnus calmly.
‘Yes and she’s supposed to be – well, as good as married. To Joe.’
‘Well. I don’t think I should get into this. I’m going to get dressed and then take Ned for a ride.’
‘You are not taking Ned on that dreadful thing.’
‘He’ll be fine. Won’t you, Ned?’
‘No,’ said Chloe.
‘Yes!’ said Ned and burst into noisy tears. Kitty joined in, startled. Pandora meanwhile was ringing at the front door bell, which was a jangling pull, endlessly. The dogs started to bark very loudly.
Caroline appeared, fully dressed, white-faced and slightly wild-eyed, in the doorway. ‘Chloe, for God’s sake. What is going on here? Would you please keep those children quiet.’
‘How could you?’ said Chloe, and her voice was vibrant with anger and rage. ‘How could you? Cheat on Joe like that. You’re disgusting.’
‘Chloe, please –’
‘Don’t Chloe me. I just can’t understand you. Joe, who’s so good and kind and loyal. All these years. Even – well, you obviously haven’t changed one bit.’
‘Chloe, how dare you? How dare you speak to me like that!’
‘I dare because it’s true. You know it is. All your life you’ve cheated on people. Me, Daddy, even – well, even Fleur. Yes, even her. You failed her very nicely, didn’t you? Being a perfect mother to us and just leaving her –’
Caroline walked forward and slapped her hard on the face. There was a stark silence; then Magnus Phillips stepped forward.
‘Caroline. That was uncalled for.’
Caroline stared at him, her face distorted, ugly. Then she turned and walked out of the room.
Ned started crying again; Magnus picked him up, and he cried harder. He handed him to Chloe, and produced a bar of chocolate from his dressing-gown pocket. ‘Unless boys have changed greatly since I was one, this’ll shut him up.’
‘He’s not allowed chocolate,’ said Chloe, aware even in her misery that she sounded very prissy.
‘Dear me!’ said Magnus. ‘Your mother’s not allowed sex, Ned’s not allowed chocolate. Is there anything at all that you approve of, Chloe?’
‘Nothing that you would understand,’ said Chloe coldly.
‘OK, I’m the villain of the piece. I’m old enough and ugly enough to cope with that. Come on, have a drink.’
‘No! I keep telling you, I don’t want a drink,’ said Chloe and burst into tears.
Magnus Phillips was very good. ‘I just might join in this crying jag myself,’ he said, taking Ned, handing him the chocolate, placing Kitty, who had gone back to sleep, tenderly on the sofa next to her mother.
Then he sat down on the other side of Chloe and put his arm round her.
‘Now come on. I can see you’re very upset, that it is very upsetting, but it’s not as terrible as you seem to think. Your mother and Joe have been drifting apart for some time. You must have noti
ced. He hardly ever comes here. Here’ – he passed her his handkerchief – ‘dry your eyes. That’s better.’
Chloe blew her nose; then she said, ‘I’m sorry, Magnus. But I think it is terrible. I’m so fond of Joe, he’s been like a father to me. He’s such a nice, good person. It seems so – cruel.’
‘Well, life’s cruel, Chloe. It just is.’
‘Oh and that’s supposed to make it all right, I suppose. We all do exactly what we like, just because life’s cruel.’
‘No, of course not. But we all do wrong and stupid things – sometimes. Mostly we get away with them.’
‘Do we?’ said Chloe. ‘Well some of us try not to do them in the first place.’
‘And the rest of us are human,’ said Magnus, looking at her rather interestedly.
Then right on cue, Caroline came back into the room and the phone rang. She picked it up.
‘Hallo? Oh – Joe. Yes, yes, I’m fine. No, that’s right, she’s here.’ She handed it to Chloe, her eyes confused, startled even.
Chloe shook her head. She couldn’t face him, knowing about this betrayal. ‘I can’t talk to him now.’
‘Chloe, he says it’s very urgent.’
‘Oh.’ She took the phone, held it for a moment against her, pulling herself together.
‘Joe? Yes?’
‘Chloe, darling. I’m sorry to do this to you. But you have to get back to London. It’s Piers. Rosemary rang me. He’s – he’s taken an overdose.’
Later, much later, when Chloe had left again, had been driven by Magnus to the station, put on to the train, with Joe meeting her at Liverpool Street, and Magnus had agreed to meet the nanny at Ipswich off the first train in the morning, and Ned had been given the promised ride on Magnus’s bike, to stop him crying, and Pandora had been allowed to ride in the floodlit ring to stop her crying, and they had all been put to bed by a besotted Janey, and read to by Caroline, and peace had settled, albeit it briefly, on the house, Magnus sat down in the drawing room and passed Caroline a very large brandy, and said to her, ‘And now, my darling, I’m afraid you simply have to tell me. Who the hell is Fleur?’
AN Outrageous Affair Page 59
