The Devil's Advocate

by Vanessa James

  To confront at last what she had known so long calmed her. She held the thought in her mind for a moment, then, very deliberately, she discarded it, made it leave her. She would let it go, she thought, like a coin tumbling into deep dark water, glimpsed for a second and then gone for ever. She gave a little involuntary cry of pain, then she began walking again.

  As she walked she made plans, busying her mind, occupying it. She did sums in her head: the money must, regardless of what happened, be paid back. Then, when it was all over, if the publicity was bad, perhaps there would be just enough to take Claudia somewhere, to go abroad, somewhere neither of them knew. Where they could both forget.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As she reached their flat, Luisa saw Harry's car just disappearing at the end of the road, and—glancing up— saw that their windows, at the very top of the tall old house, were still lit, uncurtained, light streaming out into the night sky.

  Tiredly she climbed the stairs, and let herself in. Claudia was sitting hunched over the fire, wrapped in a rug. The table was littered with the remains of the evening's picnic; a champagne bottle, dirty plates, a Fortnum's hamper that must have been Harry's surprise treat.

  She hesitated in the doorway, and Claudia looked up at her, a curious expression compounded of excitement and fear glittering in her eyes.

  'Would you like something to eat?' She spoke not ungraciously, and Luisa knew it was her method of declaring a truce.

  'No—I'm not hungry, thanks.' She came across and kissed Claudia gently. 'Are you feeling better?'

  'Sort of. You look awful—where have you been all this time?'

  Before Luisa could answer, she stood up.

  'Is there any champagne left? And maybe I'll have a bit more salmon. I'm starving!'

  'You sit down, I'll get it.' Quickly Luisa carried the dirty plates to the kitchen, fetched clean ones, poured Claudia the last of the champagne… All the time phrases pulsed in her head, how she should tell her, what she should say. But none seemed right; her mind froze over with cowardice and indecision. In the end, she just handed Claudia the glass and then sat down quietly opposite her. She would count to ten, she thought, resorting to an old childish method, and then she would speak…

  But Claudia gave her an odd smile and raised her glass.

  'You'll have to drink this after all. One can't drink a toast to oneself, can one? Isn't it unlucky?'

  'A toast?' Luisa stared at her.

  'I'm engaged. I'm going to get married.'

  'Married?' Luisa stared at her blankly, and Claudia laughed.

  'Well, you might look a bit more pleased! Here—' she held out her glass, 'to the happy bride and all that…'

  Hesitantly Luisa took the glass and sipped; it nearly choked her and she put the glass down. Claudia was watching her carefully.

  'Have you… have you told Harry?'

  'No.' Claudia smiled and stretched like a pretty cat.

  'But then…'

  'I've told him something else.'

  'I see.'

  'Oh, I don't think you do. I'm pregnant.'

  'What?' Luisa stood up quickly, feeling all the blood drain from her face. Claudia continued to look at her with a maddening unconcern.

  'Two months. The doctor confirmed it this morning. I must have missed out some pills.' She laughed gaily. 'Isn't it exciting? I was pretty sure, of course, and then when I started feeling sick…' She stood up, and patted her slim figure. 'It doesn't show yet, does it?' She turned sideways, and surveyed her own figure critically in the long glass that hung by the door. 'Of course Harry didn't hesitate. And we can't delay too long. I've no intention of going down the aisle trying to conceal the bulge under my bouquet! He's going to tell the old battleaxe tonight.' She smiled. 'One in the eye for her, don't you think?'

  'But, Claudia…'

  'Harry was so sweet. So kind. And so happy. I can't tell you, Lou. I mean, I've always been absolutely sure, because you are, you know, when you meet the right one, you just sort of feel it, here.' She pressed her hand to her heart. 'And tonight—oh, I love him so much, Lou! I shall be such a good wife to him. I…'

  'Claudia,' Luisa cut her off, knowing she must speak now, or it would be too late, 'why didn't you tell him?'

  'Tell him about what?'

  'About the money, about…' Her voice trailed away, and Claudia turned to her, her eyes wide with incomprehension.

  'Oh, that!' I couldn't tell him about that, not now.'

  'But you'll have to tell him. Claudia—if you marry— you can't begin with a lie…'

  'It isn't a lie. And I will tell him—afterwards. I will, Lou, of course. But not now, when he's so happy and when we're making all these plans, and…'

  She broke off and took Luisa's hands impatiently, her face irradiated with happiness.

  'Don't you see, Lou? It's got to be all right now. You've got to make it all right! You can't let me down. Not now. Not with all this.' She took her sister's hand, and placed it gently on the soft swell of her stomach. 'Don't you see, Lou? Everything's different now. There's the baby.'

  Luisa stood absolutely still, not moving. She did not move her hand, but let it rest gently where it was. Claudia's stomach was still as flat as her own, warm to her touch. It was too soon, of course, for the baby to stir, to move; but as she stood there, it was as if she felt something beneath her hand,-something shifting, pulsing, with a mysterious life of its own, asserting itself the more powerfully for being invisible. She caught her lip, feeling tears start to her eyes. It was awesome, that tiny thing, that tiny force, locked in Claudia's womb, and she herself felt as cold and barren as the moon.

  Gently she removed her hand and kissed her sister.

  Claudia sighed, and settled herself back in her chair. 'Of course, I shall demand lots of cossetting,' she said, smiling at her own smugness, her new maternal role. 'Dr Ramsay says I'll need lots of rest and no worries…' She broke off and raised her eyes to Luisa's face with a look of mute enquiry.

  A glance of perfect understanding passed between them.

  'You won't need to worry. I promise,' Luisa said softly.

  Claudia lowered her eyes. 'Thank you, Lou,' she said gently. 'Lou—' she looked up again, uncurious, detached, her eyes slightly misty. 'Thank you for leaving us alone tonight. You can be very clever sometimes.' She paused. 'Did you go anywhere… special?'

  Luisa shook her head, and began to busy herself tidying the room.

  'No,' she said quickly, lightly, and saw the relief flood back into Claudia's face. 'Nowhere special. I… just went to see Luke, that's all.'

  'So it really will be all right?'

  'I promise.'

  Claudia smiled and blew her a kiss.

  'You're an angel,' she said.

  'Not a very efficient one.' Luisa smiled wryly.

  'You are!' Claudia curled her legs up under her with an easy grace, and hugged them to her, resting her chin pensively on her knees.

  'Are you happy for me, Lou?'

  'Very happy.'

  'And you'll be his godmother? Harry and I want you to…'

  'His?' Luisa smiled down at her.

  'Certainly his!' her voice was indignant. 'I can tell already. Will you, darling Lou? Please say yes.'

  'Yes,' said Luisa, and dropped a light kiss on her sister's lowered head.

  'I knew you would,' said Claudia.

  The next day was a Saturday; Claudia was up early, and brought Luisa some tea in bed.

  'Come on,' she said cheerfully. 'Rise and shine!'

  She drew back the curtains, and sunlight flooded into the room. Luisa shut her eyes, she had slept no more than a couple of hours and then wretchedly, uneasily. She opened them again, forcing herself to appear cheerful.

  'This is an unusual honour.' She took the cup and sat up.

  Claudia grinned. 'I think I might become an early riser. I was up at six-thirty being as sick as a dog. Isn't it wonderful?'

  'Are you all right?'

  'Oh, I'm fine
now. I don't mind being sick in a way. Dr Ramsay says it should only last a couple more weeks at most, and it sort of—well, confirms things. Reminds me.' She smiled. 'I slept like a log, and as long as I don't see food before midday, I'll be fine.'

  In spite of herself Luisa smiled. Claudia had always had this capacity for recovery, the ability to rebound from disaster; she was like a child, she thought sadly, still—the end of the world one minute, all problems forgotten the next.

  Claudia watched her closely as she sipped the tea.

  'I'm going out this morning…' She hesitated. 'You know what Harry wants to do? Go and buy baby clothes! Isn't that ridiculous? I thought men were supposed to hate all that side of it, but I think he'll be wonderful—I can see him now, changing nappies…' She broke off, her face suddenly sobering. 'Lou, did you mean it last night? Will it really be all right? Do you think you can…'

  'It'll be all right.' Luisa stopped her. Their eyes met, Claudia's nervous, still uncertain. Luisa drew a deep breath.

  'I've got three days,' she said haltingly. It would be better, she thought, not to mention Julius. 'At the end of that time, Clou, it'll all be fixed, I promise.'

  'You mean you're really going to…'

  'Don't ask me.' She leaned forward. 'That's the only thing, Clou. I swear it will be all right, but I just can't bear to… well, to talk about it. Do you understand?'

  Claudia lowered her eyes; she sighed.

  'I thought you might say that. You're always so secretive. It might help, you know, if you did talk about it…'

  'No, it wouldn't,' Luisa said quietly, finally. 'I know what I've got to do, and I'll do it, and then I never want to talk about it or think about it ever again. It can be our secret. All right?'

  Claudia nodded silently.

  'And Clou—in the meantime, it would be better if you stayed out of it. Don't speak to Kit—or anyone. Just leave it. You ought to leave the office, I think—you ought to rest now anyway, and they can perfectly well get a temp. Will you promise me to do that?'

  Claudia smiled impishly. 'That's not difficult! The very thought of going anywhere near Morrell & Kennedy makes me feel ill anyway. Shall I resign—by letter or something? I could do that…'

  'Yes.' Luisa forced herself to sound businesslike. 'The sooner the better.'

  Claudia stood up. She hesitated awkwardly by the door, her fingers nervously pleating the skirt of her dress.

  'Lou—you know how much I love you, don't you? And I'm sorry for all those awful things I said…'

  'It doesn't matter.' Luisa smiled. 'You were probably right in a way.'

  Claudia gave her a long silent look.

  'It might turn out for the best,' she said finally, hopefully. 'You never know, Lou…'

  'All's well that ends well?' Luisa kept her voice light. 'Perhaps. Now. You go, and we won't talk about it any more. All right? Oh—and Claudia.' Her sister paused in the doorway. 'Buy some pink things. You don't want to tempt fate too much, do you? And if you buy everything blue…'

  Claudia laughed.

  'Wait and see,' she said happily. 'I know how things are going to turn out.'

  When she had gone, Luisa got up and washed and dressed slowly. She felt better now, better than she had last night, calm at least. In a way it was easier, knowing there was no way out, knowing there was no time for indecision, no possibility of compromise. She must steel herself, that was all, blank out all the pain and the fear. That was unimportant now; she was unimportant. All that mattered was Claudia. And the baby. Instinctively she touched her own stomach, clasping her hands across it. Her own skin felt like ice, all her muscles were taut.

  If only the past would go away, if she could forget, treat the whole affair coldly… But even as that thought came to her, she felt her blood quicken its pulse; memory shot through her body like a dart; last night—she had not felt cold, or unaffected or distanced last night. Was that why she was consenting to this now, making promises to Claudia so quickly, because this was what she secretly wanted? No. She slammed the doors of her mind to the thought. It was not so. She would go out, she thought quickly. Go for a walk, do anything. The worst thing would be to sit alone, to think.

  But even as she made the resolve, the door-bell rang. She jumped, startled, and went quickly to answer it.

  Standing in the hallway was a woman, a stranger. Luisa stared at her in surprise. She was short and square, somewhat mannish in her appearance, dressed in heavy tweeds, with an unbecoming tweed hat pulled low over short iron-grey curls. Her face was square too, powerfully formed, almost ugly, but dominated by the eyes—sharp, alert, intelligent blue eyes.

  'You must be Luisa.'

  'Yes. I…'

  'I'm Harry's mother.' The woman took a step forward, and for one absurd moment Luisa thought she was going to put one heavy brogue shoe in the door.

  'Oh, Lady Warrender.' Luisa collected herself quickly. 'Would you like to come in?'

  'Thank you, my dear. Claudia's out, I gather? Good.' She spoke briskly, already inside the door. 'I thought she would be, and I didn't telephone, which is very rude, but you see, my dear, I want to talk to you.' She turned with a quick smile. 'Through here? Good.' She marched ahead into the sitting room. 'How very charming.' She looked around her approvingly, her eyes missing nothing, then turned back, her sharp eyes running over Luisa's pale face, the tumbled thick hair, the slightly old-fashioned grey wool dress.

  'Now,' she smiled, 'from what I gather, you're the sensible sister. You certainly don't look like Claudia…'

  Luisa looked at her uncertainly, wondering anxiously why she had come.

  'Can I get you some coffee… sherry perhaps?'

  'No, thank you, my dear. I'm not staying long.'

  She parked her bulky frame uncompromisingly in the middle of the sofa, and reluctantly Luisa sat down opposite her. Lady Warrender's eyes never left her face.

  'Well, my dear,' she smiled, 'here's a pretty kettle of fish. What are we going to do about it?'

  Luisa felt herself blush.

  'Look, Lady Warrender,' she said awkwardly, 'I know this must have been a shock, but…'

  'A shock? It certainly was!' She produced a packet of cigarettes from a large untidy handbag, inserted one into a short holder, and made odd stabbing gestures with it to emphasise her words. 'Oh, we knew Harry was mad about Claudia, of course. And his father and I weren't terribly pleased about it. I may as well say so—no point in beating about the bush. However,' she lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, 'there we are. Now all this has happened.'

  'I think…' Luisa hesitated, 'I think they're very happy, Lady Warrender. I'm sure that, now…'

  'Well, yes. Don't let's indulge in platitudes, though.' Lady Warrender cut her off. 'The point is, I'd hoped Harry would see sense given time. As it is—well, clearly they're going to have to get married. No other way for it. Don't approve of all this modern abortion business, never have. Impossible in my day, and a good sight too easy now. People have to face the consequences of their actions. Much the best thing.'

  Luisa felt her heart give a sickening lurch; Julius's words, last night.

  'Far too young, of course. Didn't marry myself until I was thirty, and I hoped Harry would have the sense to do the same thing. However, you can't live your children's lives for them.' She paused. 'What I want to know is, what do you think? Is it all going to be a disaster, or what?'

  She spoke so directly, so brusquely, that Luisa could not repress a smile.

  'I think Claudia's too young,' she said gently. 'Harry— well, I don't know. He's… he's been very good for Claudia. But I think that when she has a baby…'

  'She'll grow up, you mean?' Lady Warrender compressed her lips. 'Well, maybe. Could happen. Does sometimes.'

  She looked at Luisa closely.

  'She loves him, does she?'

  'Very much.' Luisa met her eyes and spoke levelly.

  'Not just a flighty thing—you know, here today, gone tomorrow?'

  'Lady Warren
der, please. I know what you're trying to say.' Luisa stood up. 'I know how Claudia must seem to you—impulsive, very young and—well, perhaps changeable' She hesitated. 'But she's not really like that. Underneath… she's a person of very strong feelings, strong attachments. She loves your son. She wants very much to be a good wife to him. She told me so herself, last night.'

  'I see.' Lady Warrender's sharp blue eyes looked at her closely. 'We don't know your family, of course.' She paused. 'Your mother's dead, I believe.'

  'She died about ten years ago. Our father is still alive…' Luisa paused, and Lady Warrender looked at her curiously. 'He… he lives abroad mostly. He's a poet.'

  She didn't expect that to go down very well, and it clearly didn't. Luisa repressed a quirk of amusement. If she told Lady Warrender about her father's politics, his Marxist leanings, membership of the Italian Communist Party, what would she say then? She'd think she was taking on the daughter of some dangerous revolutionary, Luisa thought with amusement, whereas in fact, her father's politics consisted mostly of a fondness for reminiscing about the Spanish Civil War, and writing lengthy, bad odes to the overthrow of capitalism in Europe.

  'A poet?' Lady Warrender's tones suggested blank amazement. 'Have I heard of him?'

  'I shouldn't think so,' Luisa smiled. 'As poets go, he's not a very successful one.'

  'I see.' She paused. This clearly didn't please her much either, and Luisa felt nettled at her tone.

  'Are you saying you think our family's unsuitable, Lady Warrender?' she said sharply, and the older woman smiled.

  'Odd, my dear.' She put out her cigarette. 'I know what you're thinking—that I'm a terrible old-fashioned snob. Well now, I don't think, on the whole, that I am. Debrett—all that nonsense. No time for it myself. No. Harry will have to run our place in Norfolk one day, and Claudia will have to help him do it, that's all. And very feudal and old-fashioned, not to mention ridiculously costly, it is. Of course I can see Claudia's very decorative. But how's she going to cope with all that? And children? Harry's always wanted a big family, masses of children about the place. Frankly, my dear, I can see you dealing with all that. But Claudia?'