He looked over at Max and smiled again.
‘He’s a very fine young man, isn’t he, Lord Caterham? A son to be proud of, wouldn’t you say?’
Chapter 31
Georgina, 1984
Georgina had not realized quite how miserable it all made her until she sat in the library with Charlotte and Baby next day, listening to Charlotte’s clear, precise voice as she told him who Tommy Soames-Maxwell was. Charlotte had insisted on talking to Baby about their parentage; she said they needed grownup help. Thinking of Max’s defiant, almost angry face the night before, of Alexander’s, grey with shock, and his retreat into his own, withdrawn world that morning, and of Tommy Soames-Maxwell’s horribly relaxed, over-confident entry into their lives, Georgina had agreed. She hated the thought of telling anyone, even Baby, but Charlotte was right: they couldn’t manage on their own. ‘That man is dangerous,’ Charlotte had said, ‘he could resort to blackmail, anything. I may have to talk to Charles as well.’
Baby was clearly as upset as they had been. He downed three large bourbons very quickly and then sat staring at Charlotte when she had finished with an expression of dreadful sadness on his face.
‘I just don’t get it,’ he said, over and over again, ‘I just don’t get it.’
‘Nor do we,’ said Georgina quietly. She heard her voice wobble.
‘And your father won’t talk about it?’
‘Not beyond that very first day. He just acts like nothing had happened, like we didn’t know.’
Baby was silent, and then he sighed very heavily. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I don’t know what to think, but I do know that your mother was a very special person and in no way some kind of scheming adulteress. There has to be an explanation, we just have to find it.’
‘Yes, well, maybe,’ said Charlotte. She sounded faintly impatient. ‘Meanwhile, Uncle Baby, will you talk to this Soames-Maxwell for us? We’re frightened of what he might do.’
‘Well –’ He looked wary. Then he said, ‘Yes, darling, of course I will. I don’t know how much good it will do, but I’ll try. One thing’s for sure. There’s no great rush; he’s not going to go away. Not now he’s found us.’
Georgina felt tears beginning to well into her eyes again; she brushed them impatiently away. Baby looked at her and opened his arms; she crawled into them as if she had been ten, rather than twenty.
‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said, and his voice was gentle and almost cheerful, ‘don’t worry. We’ll sort it out. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry.’
Georgina wished she could believe him.
‘This feels all wrong,’ said Georgina. She was lying in her rather large bed, Kendrick’s head on her naked breasts. ‘I heard your dad saying to mine last night that we were like brother and sister.’
‘It feels great to me,’ said Kendrick. ‘If this is incest, let’s go with it.’
‘Well, I suppose we are only cousins. I think that’s just about legal.’
‘I’m sure it is. You’ve got family relationships on the brain.’
‘So would you have.’ She sighed.
‘I guess so.’
She had told him. He had found her late that afternoon, sitting, fretful and tear-stained, on the back terrace; Max had whisked Tommy up to the Eaton Place house very early that morning, Charlotte was riding with Alexander, who was consumed with a terrible restlessness, and Angie and Baby had gone. The house was empty.
‘Georgina,’ he had said, his voice tenderly amused, ‘you’re crying again! Whatever is it?’ and she had stood up and said, ‘Oh Kendrick, you don’t know, you just don’t know,’ and he had held out his arms to her, and she had taken his hand and walked him round the lake, and told him, and very soon after that they had fallen, relievedly, frantically, half awed, half amused, into bed. The sudden flare of sexual desire between her and Kendrick (born of her heightened emotional state, his kindness and concern for her, the extraordinary situation they were all thrown into), the discovery that they were actually more than just loving friends, the intensely urgent, desperate need to consummate their relationship, and then the delicious discovery that sexually they were quite extraordinarily compatible, greedy, uninhibited, sensual, imaginative – all these things had driven, briefly, her misery and anxiety from her mind.
Now it was almost dark; they had heard Charlotte and Alexander come back, had lain, holding their breath, as Charlotte called her, knocked at the door, tried the handle, gone away again. Later Georgina had hauled on her clothes, gone to find Charlotte, said she had a bad headache and was trying to sleep it off, and Charlotte had said yes of course, she would stay with Alexander, and then guiltily, greedy for more of Kendrick and the delights he had brought her, Georgina had gone back into her room and her bed.
‘We should go down,’ he said finally with a sigh, looking at his watch. ‘I promised Melissa we’d play Monopoly after supper. And Freddy’s here, and we’re all going back tomorrow. It’s our last evening, we ought to make a nice occasion of it.’
‘Oh God,’ said Georgina, ‘I don’t want you to go. What am I going to do without you?’
‘You’ll be all right,’ said Kendrick, kissing her shoulder gently. ‘You’ll be very all right. You’re going back to college. I’ll see you at Christmas.’
‘Christmas is ages away.’
‘No it isn’t. And I’ll say I want to come and spend it in England with Dad and you can see they’re all asked down here, can’t you? I’m sure everyone will like that idea. Angie certainly seemed to be getting the hots for your dad last night.’
‘Angie has the hots for everybody, I’m sure,’ said Georgina.
‘’Fraid so,’ said Kendrick gloomily. ‘I don’t really rate Dad’s chances with her for too long, do you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Georgina. ‘It’s been going on for long enough, apparently.’
‘Well, I hope so. He certainly deserves a bit of happiness. I really can’t blame him for leaving Mother. She treats him with rather less affection than the cats. I just wish he’d chosen someone a bit – warmer than Angie. Although she is extremely sexy.’
Georgina looked at him. ‘Do I have to be jealous?’ she said with a smile.
‘Absolutely not. I like tall girls,’ he said. ‘Your dad, whoever he was, must have been pretty tall.’
‘George – I think his name must have been George,’ she said absently. ‘You do? Why?’
‘Well, there was Charles and Charlotte, Tommy Soames-Maxwell and Max. It seems to follow. But it’s not exactly a lot to go on.’
‘You could be right, there.’ He tightened his arms around her.
‘You won’t ever tell anyone about that, Kendrick, will you? Not your mother, not Freddy, not anyone? And you will make sure Melissa doesn’t get wind of it, won’t you? Just think how she’d love to tell. I just couldn’t bear it to get around. Poor Daddy, he’ll never, ever be able to stand it.’
‘Of course I won’t. I swear I won’t.’
‘And your dad won’t, will he?’
‘I’m sure he won’t,’ said Kendrick soothingly. His head was beginning to spin; he felt he had strayed into some latter-day Restoration comedy. ‘It’s not the sort of thing he’d do. He’s not a gossip. And he was so terribly fond of your mother. I just can’t understand –’
‘Don’t talk about it, please,’ said Georgina. ‘I just don’t even want to think about it. It’s horrible. Suppose my father’s vile, like that Tommy creature?’
‘He couldn’t be,’ said Kendrick, kissing her breasts tenderly. ‘Your father has to be very very nice. I just know it.’
Next day they all left. Charlotte, to Georgina’s great surprise, had agreed to extending her stay slightly, spending a couple of days in London, talking to Baby about the London opening, waiting to see what came of Soames-Maxwell’s reappearance. ‘And I can see Charles too, that will be nice. And ask his advice if necessary. I wish you could meet him, Georgie, you’d love him.’
‘Well
, maybe I will one day,’ said Georgina doubtfully.
‘I hope so. I really do.’
Georgina drove her cousins to Heathrow at lunchtime; it was a strange experience, pretending she felt no more for Kendrick than family-style affection, under Melissa’s watchful eyes. They managed a swift farewell while Freddy and Melissa rather frantically searched for a present for their mother; but that was all. When her cousins had finally gone through the boarding gates she sat down and cried in the ladies’, to the concern of the kind Indian lady in charge, who gave her a packet of Kleenex and some chocolate biscuits. And then, feeling surprisingly cheerful, she drove back to Hartest.
Alexander was waiting for her on the steps. He smiled, put his arm round her.
‘You look tired, darling. Come along in.’
‘I’m fine. Have you had supper?’
‘No. Not yet. I waited for you.’ He hesitated. ‘Max phoned.’
‘He did? What did he say?’
‘Oh, just that he was all right. That he was sorry about – about the other night. That he and – Soames-Maxwell were staying in London. He asked if he could bring him down for the weekend. I said no.’
‘Good. Although I suppose we should try to like him,’ said Georgina carefully.
‘I really don’t see why,’ said Alexander, looking very cold suddenly. ‘Why should we try to like him?’
‘Well – because of who he – who he is.’
‘Georgina, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Mr Soames-Maxwell is simply a rather unsavoury friend of Max’s. Whom we are under absolutely no obligation to like whatsoever.’
‘Yes,’ said Georgina. ‘Yes of course. You’re right.’
She walked through the house feeling slightly alarmed. He was obviously more vulnerable than they had all realized.
They ate supper in the kitchen, and then Alexander said he was going to read.
‘I’m very tired,’ he said.
‘I’m going up to see Nanny,’ said Georgina. ‘She’s more and more alone now.’
Alexander frowned.
‘I think she likes it that way,’ he said, ‘I shouldn’t disturb her. In fact I really would rather you didn’t.’ For the first time, he seemed agitated.
‘All right,’ said Georgina, anxious not to upset him, ‘I’ll come and read with you. We’ll both go to bed early.’
She sat in the library with him, but she couldn’t read. She felt excited, in disarray. Apart from concern about Alexander, distress over Max, her relationship with Kendrick was disturbing her, making her restlessly happy. For the first time in her life the sex she so enjoyed had a purpose to it, beyond sheer physical pleasure and self-indulgence; it had invaded her sweetly, tenderly, it was an emotion in itself, a raw, joyful, powerful emotion, it was altering her perspective on life, giving her courage, and hope. She sat looking at Alexander, wondering for the thousandth time just what it had been about the marriage that had made her mother behave as she had; but for the very first time she was thinking without misery, without rancour. Somewhere, somehow there had to be an explanation; it seemed to her tonight, in her new happiness, that the explanation might be, if not happy, at least bearable.
She looked across at Alexander; he was asleep over his book. He looked very old suddenly; her heart wrenched. She went over to him and kissed him.
‘Come on, Daddy. Up to bed.’
He woke immediately as he had a trick of doing, and smiled at her, immediately alert.
‘Yes, of course. Goodnight, darling.’
‘Goodnight, Daddy.’
It was still early; when she was sure he was asleep again, she went to Nanny’s room. She was sitting by her fire, looking into it, a book in her lap.
‘What are you reading, Nanny?’
‘Pride and Prejudice. Such a stupid book. I’ve read it twice. Can’t see why anyone bothers with it.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Georgina, greatly daring, confronting Nanny’s lack of logic, ‘perhaps you should read something else.’
‘Oh no,’ said Nanny. ‘I have to finish it. There’s such a lot of dreadful news in the papers.’
‘Yes there is. You’re right. Books are safer. Er – Nanny –’
‘If you’re going to ask me about that man,’ said Nanny, ‘don’t. I didn’t like the look of him.’
‘Well, none of us did, Nanny. I just thought –’
‘If he’s anything to do with Max, he shouldn’t be here,’ said Nanny. ‘Max never did have any respect.’
‘Well – it’s certainly very hard on Daddy.’
‘Yes,’ said Nanny. ‘Of course you could say it was his fault.’
‘What was?’ asked Georgina. Her heart was thudding rather hard.
‘Well – the way he brought Max up. Spoilt him.’
‘Nanny, it’s not his fault. Really it isn’t.’
‘That’s what your mother used to say,’ said Nanny, her face softening. ‘“Nanny,” she used to say, “it’s not his fault.”’
‘Nanny, please tell me what you know. Please. I’m desperate to sort it out.’
‘I really don’t know very much, Georgina,’ said Nanny. ‘I never did.’
‘You knew about us.’
‘Yes, I did. But not a lot more.’
‘Not why it happened?’
‘Georgina, I promised your mother I would never tell you. She said it wasn’t right that you should know.’
‘But Nanny, we need to know. We really do.’
‘No you don’t,’ said Nanny, ‘you want to know. That’s different. I always tried to tell you that, Georgina, the difference between want and need. You never could see it. I need a new bike, I need a new sledge. You didn’t need either. You wanted them. You don’t need to know, Georgina. It won’t help. It’s too late.’
‘But Nanny –’
‘I can’t tell you,’ she said, setting her old face into particularly stubborn lines. ‘I promised, and it wouldn’t be right. But I will say one thing, and it’s important. You shouldn’t feel too bad about him. About Lord Caterham. Is that any help to you?’
‘No, not really,’ said Georgina with a sigh.
Chapter 32
Charlotte, 1985
Fred III called all the partners into his office late one March afternoon (and included Charlotte: she had been at once touched and intrigued by that) and told them that Jicks Foster had died, quite suddenly, of a heart attack. He was upset, as upset as Charlotte could ever remember seeing him. There were tears in his bright blue eyes as he talked to them; he and Jicks went back a long way, he said, as they all knew, buddies from Harvard. His account had been the making of the present-day Praegers; it was a sad day on many counts. And a sad day for Fosters Land, thought Charlotte, from what she knew of Jeremy, the son and heir; and the disloyal thought came to her that there was a parallel with Fred III and Baby, the tough, hard-working, exemplary father and the beloved, indulged, playboy son. Not that Baby was indulged any more, she reflected, or even beloved; quite the reverse, Fred had nailed him personally to the cross and planted the crown of thorns of his own dissatisfaction on his head. But for too long he had given him too much, believed in him too deeply; and Jicks Foster had done the same with Jeremy. Only Jeremy had escaped the crucifixion; and now he had inherited the kingdom and was to rule over it alone.
She was working her way through some files three evenings later when there was a tap at her office door. She was working on various financial models, different ways of presenting its liquidity, for a company for which they were currently looking for a buyer; briefed by Gabe to make it look as good as possible: ‘Which won’t be easy.’
‘Charlotte? Hi.’ It was Jeremy Foster.
‘Oh. Hallo, Jeremy.’ Ever since the fracas over Michael Browning she had been very wary of doing more than nod to important clients in the office.
‘I just dropped by to talk to your grandfather. Charlotte, are you busy? Can I buy you a drink?’
‘Well – well, I don’t
know. I have to –’
‘Oh Charlotte, please. Isabella is out of town tonight, and I’m feeling thoroughly blue. And besides, I want to talk to you about something.’
‘Jeremy, I don’t think I should. My grandfather is very strict about my – my –’
‘Your what?’
‘Well, my fraternizing with the clients.’
Jeremy went into peals of laughter. ‘You’re kidding me.’
‘I am not kidding you. Honestly.’
‘Well in that case, I shall buy you a very expensive dinner somewhere and have le tout New York talking about it. Just to annoy him. And I shall tell him I am placing American Suburban entirely in your hands.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’d be fired.’
‘He can’t fire you, honey, you’re family. Look, come and have a drink. Cheer an old man up.’
‘Oh – oh all right. That’d be nice.’
They went to the Oak Bar; Jeremy ordered a bottle of champagne.
‘Gorgeous!’ said Charlotte. ‘I really feel I need that. Maybe not all of it,’ she added carefully.
‘You’re not going to get all of it. Not even half.’ He smiled at her again. ‘So how’s banking, Charlotte? How’s the president elect?’
‘Oh,’ said Charlotte. ‘Sometimes I see that as purest fantasy, Jeremy. I just can’t believe any of it. It seems so remote, as I sit there at that horrible little tin desk, binding pages together. But banking, yes, it’s great, I love it. Just love it. There can’t be many jobs that give you the most instant gratification.’
‘Sounds very sexy!’ said Jeremy.
‘It is sexy,’ she said, earnestly serious. ‘When you’ve brought something off, done a deal, there is a tremendous high, a feeling of winning, of overcoming the odds; you really feel you could fly.’
‘I see. Maybe I’m in the wrong business. And that uppity young man you work with. Gabe Hoffman. Do you love him too?’
‘Certainly not. I can’t stand him,’ said Charlotte, who was currently having to invest more time and energy than usual into persuading herself that was true. ‘Oh God, Jeremy, that’s the champagne talking already. Don’t repeat that, will you? Not to Grandpa, or to Pete.’
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