The Best Of Times

by Penny Vincenzi

  Georgia could feel herself going over the top, flirting with everyone, including Bryn-and Merlin, of course-making people dance with her, but it was the last time she’d see most of them, and she was enjoying herself so much.

  Merlin was a fantastic dancer, and he was looking absolutely amazing, all in black-black skinny jeans, black T-shirt, black leather jacket. She thought he must be rather hot in the jacket, and suggested he take it off more than once, but he said he liked it, and he liked being hot. She hoped he meant what she thought by that.

  And then suddenly the front doorbell went off, and Georgia, who was in the hall, opened it. A girl stood there, a really beautiful girl, tall, with long blond hair and astonishingly blue eyes; she was wearing a short black dress and black knee boots with very high heels. She smiled at Georgia just slightly dismissively and looked her up and down and said, “Hi. Is Merlin here?”

  Georgia said he was and that she’d go and find him-the girl was the sort who inspired such behaviour-and had just turned to go into the party when Bryn appeared and said, “Ticky! Darling! What a surprise. Merlin didn’t warn us.”

  The girl kissed Bryn and said, “He didn’t know I was flying in today. I promise, Bryn, darling, I haven’t come to crash your wrap party. I just thought I might steal him away in a little while.”

  “You can crash anything of mine, sweetie. Let me go and find the boy.”

  ***

  Merlin, it seemed, and Ticky-whoever was called Ticky, and what was it short for? Georgia wondered-were an item. Had been since drama school. Only Ticky, who had a very rich daddy, was now attending the New York University film school. And came back to London only for the vacations.

  Merlin clearly adored her; so did most of the cast. Davina threw her arms round her and told her she looked divine. Which she did, Georgia thought miserably; she was the sort of girl who was on the cover of Tatler, or even Vogue. Understated, superconfident, totally classy, she had become, briefly, the centre of the party.

  And when she and Merlin left, after half an hour, looking like a Prada ad, Georgia sat down next to Anna and said, trying to sound cool, “What happened to not being at other people’s wrap parties?”

  “I guess if you look like that, you can be anywhere you damn well like,” Anna said, and then, looking rather hard at Georgia: “Listen, sweetie, I’ve had enough. Want to come home with me? Lila’s on her own and she’d love to see you. And catch up on the concert. If there’s anything to catch up on…”

  “That’d be great,” said Georgia. “Thank you.”

  All she felt now was a consuming terror that the whole production had been laughing at her behind her back.

  Anna, who had clearly put two and two together, and confronted the issue in the cab home, told her they hadn’t.

  “I swear to you, nobody ever mentioned it. Listen, even I never guessed. You played it really cool, Georgia. Well done. And good riddance, I’d say. Leading you on like that, never mentioning her. Ticky! What a name.”

  “No, no, not really,” said poor Georgia, the tears beginning to flow now, “and he didn’t lead me on; he was just… really kind. Oh, I’m sorry, Anna, I think I might change my mind, go home after all.”

  “All right,” said Anna, “of course I understand. But please, please, sweetie, believe me. I never heard a whisper about you and Merlin. Honestly.”

  It was comfort of a sort.

  ***

  Linda had an incredible Christmas. She always enjoyed it; she loved the theatricality of it, spent many hours decorating her flat, went to endless parties, bought a mountain of presents for everyone, and went for the day to the home of Francis and his partner, who was an incredible cook. None of that was altered this year; except that Alex, who had spent the day with the children and his now ex-wife, came up for the evening and, as Linda put it, they fucked their way into Boxing Day.

  Linda didn’t know quite what she felt about her relationship with Alex. In many ways it was extremely difficult; he was moody and bad tempered and introspective to an absurd degree, and what felt like at least half their dates ended in rows, the less serious resolved in bed, the more serious unresolved for days. Several times, after he had slammed out, she decided that she must finish things, that they just made each other unhappy, and would call him to tell him so and more than once he had agreed. But then, somehow, they would resolve things; one or the other of them would make some approach, without actually apologising, and they would agree to meet and then, having met, found themselves almost against their respective wills quite unable to continue with the hostilities. And then they would start again, amusing, charming, pleasing each other, agreeing that they made each other happier than anyone else had ever done… until the next time.

  It seemed to Linda quite impossible that it could be a long-term relationship; it was just too uncomfortable and disturbing. On the other hand, she looked into a future without Alex, without the intense colour and interest and drama, and that seemed impossible to contemplate too.

  She was perfectly aware what caused the rows: they were both arrogant, opinionated, and for too long had been able to hold on to their opinions and behaviour and not consider anyone else, Linda because she lived alone, with all the self-indulgence that offered, and Alex because his status at the hospital meant that very few people ever confronted him there either.

  On her up days-and Linda was an extremely up person-she would think it was fine, that the drama and passion and difficulty of it all were actually part of the pleasure; but when she was down, she could see that it was not at all what she needed, not the warm reassurance and companionship she had been dreaming of. Alex was about as reassuring as a roll of thunder. He also brought with him the burden of teenage children-whom he had not even allowed her to meet, and that in itself had to be significant, and indeed she found it fairly hurtful-and a demanding career entirely out of her orbit.

  The only thing she could do-or try to do, and it went against her nature-was enjoy the relationship for as long as she could, and to continue to look for someone more enduringly suitable. The trouble was that Alex, for all his appalling drawbacks, had set the bar rather high… Laura had hated every moment of Christmas. She had always loved it so much, looked forward to it for months, the planning the shopping, the decorating, the cooking, creating the perfect performance for everyone, had always thought how lucky she was to be able to do it all on such an extravagant scale; and now she discovered that actually it wasn’t the present giving, or the family feasts, or the delight of doing the tree with the children, or even the carol concerts and the children’s party that she and Jonathan had always given; it was the sense of being at the heart of her perfect, happy family. Her family this Christmas was not only not perfect, it was not even happy; and she was not at the heart of it. At the heart of it this year was a bitter unhappiness: two little girls crying most nights for their daddy and begging her to make sure he came for Christmas, a little boy who said he hated his father, and that he would walk out if he came for Christmas, and a house that was a cold showcase for the lights and the tinsel and the tree and the presents underneath it. She had lavished enormous sums of money on PlayStations and Nintendo games for Charlie, and dolls and clothes for the girls, and iPods for all of them; they had had the tallest tree and the biggest crackers ever, the most perfect Christmas dinner, and even though the girls had expressed delight and told her they loved their presents and loved her, and had sung Christmas carols determinedly as they helped to lay and decorate the dinner table, and even Charlie had tried to be cheerful and said how cool his PlayStation was, and submitted to his grandfather’s endless terrible jokes with a good grace, and they had all managed to play a round of charades and a game of Trivial Pursuit after dinner, there had been an emptiness, a greyness over everything, and when they hugged and kissed her good night and settled into bed with their new books, their iPods clamped to their heads, she knew that above anything else, they were relieved it was over and they could stop trying to
seem happy.

  The compromise reached over Jonathan’s visit had been that he would come on Christmas morning and give them presents (during which Charlie glowered from a corner), and then go away, “because I’ve got to deliver some babies,” and then have them on Boxing Day in his flat, and take them to the pantomime at Richmond in the evening. But Charlie had refused to go at the last minute, which had upset the girls, and there had been the hideous empty seat beside them in the theatre, which they could almost hear shouting, “Charlie should be here,” and they had cried all the way home after Laura collected them.

  And, left alone in his flat without them, contemplating the ugly, empty day that had passed, Jonathan had cried too.

  ***

  Barney was literally having nightmares about the inquest. Every time he thought about being asked about the tyres and how he would have to say that Toby hadn’t let him check them, he thought he would throw up. The fact that there had been a nail in one of them, initially an immense relief, now seemed of less importance. He should have insisted on doing all he could to ensure the car’s safety; that was the whole point.

  And he would think about Emma and how happily and quickly they had tumbled into love; and then how much he missed her still. And he would even, in spite of everything, realise how much he missed Toby too, missed having him there to have a laugh with, to send stupid e-mails to, to get drunk with… Toby would be back at work after Christmas; he was bound to run into him in bars and so on, and Amanda was bound to ask why they weren’t seeing each other. She knew about Tamara, of course, and the broken engagement, and she’d been very upset, her great blue eyes filled with tears. “But I suppose it’s for the best; Tamara said they’d just fallen out of love-how awful is that?”

  How awful indeed…

  ***

  Emma spent much of Christmas trying not to wonder what Barney was doing, which large country house he and Amanda would be staying in, and whether there would be discussion with their families-

  Christmas being the sort of time such conversations did take place-about their wedding plans.

  It was a relief to get back to work.

  ***

  Mary and Russell had a perfect Christmas. Tadwick House was absurdly overdecorated, with fairy lights in every room, round every fireplace, and entwined round every stair rail, and strung along every hedge outside as well. A vast Christmas tree stood in the hall, a second in the drawing room, complete with a mountainous pile of presents, mistletoe hung in every doorway, huge log fires burned in every grate, and the house was filled with the irresistible mingling of wood smoke and baking. And it was wonderfully, noisily full.

  Not only were Christine and Gerry, Douglas and Maureen and their children, Timothy and the lovely Lorraine there for Christmas Day, together with Lorraine’s parents, but to Mary’s absolute surprise and delight, Coral and Pearl and their respective spouses asked if they might join them as well, an English Christmas having long been a dream of theirs.

  Russell was delighted as well. Christine’s initial rejection of him had hurt him badly, and he felt rather proud that his own daughters were more generous-hearted than Mary’s. He still found Christine rather hard to embrace-both physically and emotionally. She had failed to say anything to him by way of an apology, and every time he looked at her rather self-satisfied, plump face he wondered at her dissimilarity from her mother.

  The weather was most obligingly Christmassy, crisp and sunny; the entire party went to morning service on Christmas Day, came back for a vast lunch (with a break for the Queen’s speech), and then went for a short walk before having presents in the drawing room. After that everyone withdrew for a short rest and then reassembled for games and to sing carols round the piano. The piano had been Russell’s Christmas present to Mary, who had always longed for one ever since learning to play on her own grandmother’s when she was a small girl, and had never been allowed one since. Rusty at first, by sherry time she was sufficiently adept to play “Jingle Bells” and “Away in a Manger.” Russell was a superb pianist and took over for the evening performance, finishing with a flamboyant, concert-style rendition of Rhapsody in Blue that reduced Lorraine’s mother and both Coral and Pearl to tears.

  The party broke up at about ten, apart from Timothy and Lorraine and the Canadian cousins, who were watching an old Bond movie; Christine walked to the bottom of the stairs, then turned and went back to Russell and kissed him.

  “It’s been wonderful,” she said. “Thank you very much for having us here today… and I’m very sorry about my… about… well, I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’re here. You’ve made my mother happier than I can ever remember. Since Dad died, that is, of course.”

  At which Russell kissed her back and said, “Of course,” and added that he was proud to have succeeded someone who had clearly been so remarkable a gentleman as Donald.

  Later, as they sat in bed, Russell leaned over and kissed Mary and said, “I meant it about Donald. I’m going to have a tough job living up to him.”

  Mary kissed him back and told him he wasn’t doing too badly so far.

  CHAPTER 46

  She supposed she should have realised, really: if they squabbled as much as they did when they were living in different houses-and different cities, come to that-what hope for them when they were sharing the same room with no escape in any form, even into work?

  Actually, and perversely, she had enjoyed the first part of the trip, the conference in Cape Town, a great deal more than she had expected. She had thought it would be tedious in the extreme, and it had actually turned out to be rather fun. Not least because she was quickly established as something of a star, certainly among the men, not just because of what she looked like and how she dressed, but because of what she did: a glossy, entertaining creature from another world altogether.

  She had made two friends in particular, one a rather dashing neurosurgeon, who had actually first trained as a barrister; he told her life was too short to spend it in one discipline, as he put it, and asked her, his blue eyes dancing with appreciation at her very low-cut black velvet top, what she was going to do when she grew up. Linda told him she was going to be a lap dancer, and he laughed so much and so loudly that the entire dining room turned round to look.

  The other friend was a part-time primary-school teacher called Martin, rather plain but very funny, accompanying his wife; he said he was quite used to coming on the spousal programmes.

  “I don’t mind a bit, actually. I enjoy it all except the shopping. And the other wives are very nice to me. There’s usually more than one of us these days, but I can handle there being just me.”

  He said he had always looked after the children, ever since his wife, an orthopaedic surgeon, had got her first consultancy. “I mean, why not? She earns squillions more than I ever could. She gets a bit tetchy if dinner isn’t ready when she gets home, but I can handle that.”

  Linda laughed. Maybe that was what she needed-a house husband. It would be great to get home every night to find dinner cooked and the fridge stocked. Not to mention all her dry cleaning and laundry sorted, and the cleaning women organised. Wonderful…

  But then, house husbands just weren’t very sexy.

  On the second day the spousal programme took them up Table Mountain via the cable car. Linda walked round the top with Martin; they admired the views, the almost literally intoxicating air, and agreed that they might both duck out of the visit to the township the following day.

  “But Alex tells me they don’t like that,” she said.

  “Oh, they don’t mind once or twice. I usually say I’ve got my period.”

  Linda giggled.

  “Your husband come on these things a lot?”

  “My partner. We’re not married. Well, if you can keep a secret, he’s just my boyfriend. I dared him to bring me on this and he did.”

  “I won’t tell a soul. Why should you need to dare him? Any normal red-blooded man would be dying to take you anywh
ere. Or is his blood a bit pink?”

  “No, of course not,” said Linda, laughing. “And… it’s a bit of an in-joke, the dares. Anyway, he doesn’t approve of these trips. Says they’re thinly disguised bribes.”

  “Quite right. Fortunately my wife doesn’t have such principles.”

  And all might have been well, had he not brought his wife-a pretty girl with freckles and a Scottish accent, called Fiona-to meet Alex and Linda at predinner drinks and told Alex what Linda had said about the bribery, and how much he agreed with him.

  “Frightful racket. Still, who are we to complain?” Martin asked.

  “Well, you certainly don’t,” said Fiona. “I have to work very hard for it. Anyway, it’s not exactly true.”

  “Of course it’s not,” said Alex. He glared at Linda.

  “I call the spousal programme pretty hard work,” said Martin. “Linda and I are ducking out tomorrow, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. Doing a heavy day at the spa,” said Linda, and then rather hurriedly, “And how was today’s conference session?”

  “Very good,” said Fiona, “some really interesting ideas, didn’t you think, Alex?”

  “Yes, not bad.”

  “Well, if it isn’t the lap dancer. Not working tonight?”

  It was the neurosurgeon. Linda reached up to kiss him.

  “Hi. Not yet. I don’t usually start until after dinner.”

  “I’ll look forward to it. Come and rescue my wife, will you? I’ve told her about you; she’s longing to meet you, and she’s stuck with some gnome from R and D. Can you spare her, Alex, old chap?”