Seascape

by Anne Weale

  ‘Very chic, Kate. That should knock a certain person sideways,’ Juliet said, smiling. ‘Will my Scarlet Woman outfit have a scaring-off effect, I ask myself? Xan has vintage champagne on ice, but we’ve been waiting for you.’

  She stood aside and Kate preceded her into the large room she remembered so clearly from her first visit here. Tonight, with the curtains drawn, many lamps alight and a fire burning on the hearth, it looked even more attractive. But, as she walked in, it was the taller of the two men, both slightly unfamiliar in their immaculate evening dress, who caught and riveted her attention.

  Xan in a dinner-jacket made her heart lurch inside her. She forced herself to greet Oliver first, offering her hand and cheek and receiving a light but affectionate hug.

  Xan, when she turned to him, took her hand and kissed it. ‘That’s a fantastic dress ... perfect for you.’

  When, a few moments later, they all had glasses of champagne in their hands, Juliet said, ‘This is far more my style than the last-night party in Chaniá. In the absence of you two, the rest of us went to a bar where they play Cretan folk music. It was mildly amusing for the first hour or so. But I grew out of that sort of place—upright chairs on a cement floor and bottles of beer on the tables—a long time ago. Those who’ve led sheltered lives, like Heather and Joyce, found it tremendously exciting. Especially when they were given the eye by some moustachioed fishermen who, in spite of minimal English, obviously make a good thing out of chatting up the foreigners d’un certain âge.’

  Later, after Juliet had asked if she could touch up her lipstick before they left for the gala and the two women were alone in the bedroom used by Xan’s visitors, she said, ‘You were attractive before, Kate, but now... for a moment as you came up the stairs I almost didn’t recognise you. It’s not just the dress and the new way you’re doing your hair. It’s as if you were lit up inside.’

  ‘I am,’ said Kate. ‘It’s the effect Xan has on me. When I’m with him, the world’s a different place. Even if it’s only for a few hours and there’s no future in it, I feel on the threshold of heaven.’

  As Juliet uncapped a lipstick that matched her dress, she added, ‘So Oliver didn’t opt out, as you were afraid he might. Do you still feel the same way about him? Have you had any contact with him since you rang me last week?’

  ‘No, but the fact that he’s here, and is staying in London till Friday, is encouraging,’ said Juliet. ‘Before you arrived Xan was telling us that he might take a Palette group to Bali next year. I’m definitely going to sign on for that, and I think Oliver may, even though it will be expensive.’

  ‘Really? He hasn’t mentioned it to me.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s planning to discuss it with you later,’ said Juliet. ‘This do at the Academy won’t go on till the small hours. It’ll be probably be over by eleven. I came in my car and I’m going to say I hate night-driving and ask Oliver to drive me home to see a big painting I’ve done—a montage of the Chaniá experience. If he wriggles out of it, I’ll know I’m wasting my time yearning for something that’s never going to come right.’

  After carefully painting her lips, she said, ‘Xan’s different too, tonight. I sensed that as soon as I saw him. He’s more open, more approachable. He was always charming, but there was a certain reserve...some part of his mind one couldn’t penetrate. Didn’t you feel that?’

  ‘I still do,’ Kate answered wryly. But she knew what Juliet meant, and she thought it must have to do with the resumption of good relations with his grandmother.

  ‘Anyway, whether or not I succeed in luring Oliver to my lair, I’d bet serious money that you’ll find yourself back here before the night’s over,’ said Juliet. ‘Clearly, he thinks you look ravishing and is panting to ravish you. Are you going to let him?’

  The question was in Kate’s mind all through a magical evening. Her answer when Juliet had asked it had been, ‘I don’t know.’ But inwardly she did know. Xan already held her heart. Whatever else he asked of her, she would give, freely and gladly, without counting the cost to herself if his heart was not involved.

  But the way he kept looking at her kindled wild hopes that it might be.

  At the end, when the women had collected their wraps from the cloakroom and were rejoining the men in the grandeur of the building’s entrance hall, Juliet said, ‘Would you do me a great favour, Oliver? Last week someone was mugged near the lock-ups where I keep my car and I’m a bit scared of going home. I should have come in a taxi. If I organise one for your return journey, would you be a knight in white armour and run me home? You can have a look at my masterpiece at the same time. I’d like your opinion of it.’

  Without hesitation, Oliver said, ‘By all means. Where is your car?’

  The four of them walked to the meter where Juliet had left it. As they were saying goodnight, Juliet gave Kate a discreet wink and a covert thumbs-up. ‘Good luck,’ she breathed in her ear, as they kissed goodbye.

  As the others drove off, Xan said, ‘It’s not late. Would you like to come back to the flat and see the paintings of Crete I’ve been working on? There are also one or two things I’d like to discuss with you.’

  Trying to sound casual, Kate agreed, and he hailed a taxi.

  On the way, they discussed the evening. She was trembling slightly inside, but not as nervous as she had expected to be. At the house, he preceded her up the stairs to unlock the door of his flat. Catching sight of the Charles Keene drawing of the couple in the four-poster, Kate wondered what Xan’s bed was like—it had not been included in the photographs in the glossies—and if, very soon now, she was going to find that out.

  The log fire was still alight behind a protective screen of fine chain mesh which stopped sparks from damaging the beautiful Tibetan rug in front of the fireplace. Xan opened the screen and put on another log.

  ‘Make yourself comfortable while I make some coffee.’

  ‘Can I do anything to help?’

  ‘No, thanks, everything’s ready. I thought the others might come back but then it became obvious that Juliet had other plans. I’m sure she made up that story about the mugger. The question is, does Oliver know the score?’

  Was this his oblique way of warning her that by coming back here she had put herself in a similar situation? Kate wondered, remembering his promise that he wouldn’t make a pass without prior warning.

  ‘I’m sure he does,’ she answered. ‘A man as attractive as Oliver must have had lots of passes made at him. But I happen to know that Juliet’s intentions are honourable, as they used to say. She wants to fill the gap left by Sophie McCormick. Not to replace her—she knows she could never do that. But to give him the loving companionship he still needs. With their painting as a common interest, I think, in spite of the disparities between them, it could work out well.’

  ‘Let’s hope so. I shan’t be long.’ Xan disappeared. When, some minutes later, he came back with a tray, Kate was sitting on the sofa, enjoying the atmosphere of the room but feeling increasingly jittery as the crucial moment drew nearer.

  As he poured out, Xan’s hands were as steady as when he was painting. When he put a cup of coffee where she could easily reach it, and a glass of brandy beside it, she would have liked to swallow a mouthful of the latter straight away but restrained herself.

  However when he sat down it was at the other end of the sofa, not close to her.

  ‘You’ve told me what little you know about your antecedents,’ he said. ‘I think it’s time I told you about mine...and the reason why Nerina and I were estranged for so long. That always worried you, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it did,’ she agreed. ‘I couldn’t imagine how that situation had come about. It made you seem...hard, even cruel. I couldn’t relate those characteristics to your good qualities.’

  ‘I’m glad you did credit me with some good qualities. That wasn’t always apparent,’ he said drily. After a pause, he went on, ‘Emma—my mother—died when I was eleven. I had to call her Emma becau
se Nerina didn’t approve of my calling her “Mum”. She has some fairly archaic ideas about acceptable behaviour. We lived by her rules because she paid the bills. Even as a very small boy I knew Emma was afraid of Nerina.’

  ‘Had your mother no family of her own?’

  He shook his head. ‘She was an only child, brought up by her mother’s father after her parents split up. Her father was a surfing champion, her mother a university drop-out who became a surfing groupie. They were never married, although later her mother—my other grandmother—did marry a rich American. At the time I’m talking about she didn’t want to be encumbered with the product of her wild youth. The old man — my great grandfather—had been a famous pot-holer. That was how Emma met my father. She herself was afraid of caves, and of water. By the time I knew her she was afraid of a lot of things.’

  When he paused, Kate noticed a tight knot of muscle at the angle of his jaw and took it as a sign of repressed anger or pain.

  ‘For the last two or three years of her life she had an undiagnosed illness,’ he went on. ‘It may have been ME—myalgic encephalomyelitis. Even now there are doctors who either deny its existence or know next to nothing about it. At that time it was barely recognised. Anyway, whatever was wrong made her very listless and depressed. She also had dizzy spells. She might have been dizzy and disorientated when she stepped into the road in front of a petrol tanker. Or she might have decided she had had as much as she could take.’

  Kate stifled an exclamation of shock and distress. She had had no inkling of a tragedy of this order in the not so distant past.

  ‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘No one has ever mentioned this to me.’

  ‘People who have no friends are quickly forgotten,’ Xan said, with a shrug. ‘Emma was discouraged from taking any part in village life. She was, in effect, an unpaid servant. Her only pleasures were books and her child, but even our relationship was spoilt for her. If we spent too much time together, Nerina accused her of turning me into a mummy’s boy. I hated Nerina. She made my mother’s life unbearable...perhaps literally. For a long time I found it impossible to forgive her for that. Later I began to understand her behaviour.’

  His paused to swallow some coffee, but as if he were not really tasting it.

  ‘For one thing she obviously felt Emma’s generation had less excuse for accidental pregnancies than her own. In her view, Emma should have known more about avoiding an unwanted baby than she herself had done at a time when young men were snatching everything life had to offer in case they were killed, but sex and contraception weren’t discussed and written about as freely as they are today.’

  ‘Even our mothers’ generation weren’t all that clued up,’ said Kate, who felt sure her own conception had been unintentional. ‘You would think that Nerina’s experience would have made her more understanding.’

  ‘She may have become more tolerant latterly, but in those days she had very little time for anyone’s shortcomings.’

  Thinking about it, Kate could remember several recent examples of Miss Walcott’s intolerance which, before, she had excused as the tetchiness of old age.

  ‘She also felt that Michael and Emma were unsuited,’ Xan went on. ‘In that respect, she was right. Everything I’ve learned about my father, and everything I remember about my mother, points to major incompatibilities which, had he lived, he would have found exasperating. He was tough, adventurous, brave... a replica of Neal, my grandfather. Emma was physically and morally timid. She was frightened of spiders and thunder, frightened of being alone at the cottage when Nerina was away. If Michael hadn’t died and had married her, the marriage was bound to have foundered. Nerina was right about that.’

  He paused, his expression bleak as he called up the past.

  ‘Having survived on her own, without any support, Nerina despised Emma’s helplessness. She thought her lacking in character and clearly she was. I never knew her to defend herself. But I loved her very much and resented my grandmother’s bullying.’

  Reading between the lines, Kate guessed that what he had left unsaid was that Emma hadn’t defended him either. Perhaps Nerina had bullied the little boy too—until, taking after his father, he had learned to fight back.

  Suddenly she saw the whole situation from a new perspective. Everything became clear to her. And with understanding came a great rush of love which she could no longer hide, nor had any wish to.

  It was in her eyes as she looked at him. In her voice as she murmured, ‘Oh, Xan...’ In the involuntary gesture of her hands stretching towards him.

  For a moment he sat very still. Then, like someone released from a cage, he sprang towards her, pulling her into his arms, holding her painfully close.

  ‘But it’s you I love now,’ he said huskily, into her hair. ‘I do owe the old girl that. But for Nerina, I might never have found you. Darling Kate, will you marry me?’

  A long time later, in his bedroom, Kate said softly, ‘What time is it?’

  Lazily, Xan raised himself on one elbow to look at the clock.

  ‘Half-past twelve. I’d better ring your hotel to tell them you’ve been detained and will be collecting your things in the morning.’

  She felt the conventional reflex, but so faintly and briefly that it was like the momentary sputter of a damp match. What did it matter what the people at the hotel thought? Why should she give up a night of tenderness and passion for the cold propriety of the hotel bed? There had been too many lonely nights in her life. But not any more.

  The call made, Xan turned back to her, smoothing a stray lock of hair from her forehead with gentle fingers.

  ‘Tomorrow I’ll take you down to my country place. It’s an old tithe barn where a tenth part of the harvest used to be stored. There’s another smaller barn near it which I was going to offer you as a home and an HQ for Palette if things hadn’t worked out the way they have.’

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ she murmured, ‘is why, if you felt this way, you didn’t put me out of my misery sooner.’

  ‘I’ve been crazy about you from day one. Why else do you think I agreed to go to Crete? It wasn’t out of duty to Nerina. It certainly wasn’t because I wanted to waste time teaching people like Loretta whose mind isn’t open to new ways and new techniques. It was solely because a girl with eyes like opals had marched in here and given me a ticking off.’

  ‘Oh, Xan, I didn’t!’ she protested mildly. ‘I was at pains not to show how anti-you I was then.’

  ‘You were?’ he asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘You may not have said so outright, but the message I was receiving was that I was at number one on your “hates” list. I wanted to change that. I wanted to make you purr for me, instead of threatening to scratch if I came anywhere near you.’

  ‘I’ve been purring madly ever since you carried me in here,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’m purring now. I expect to be purring for the rest of my life.’ She slid her arms round his neck. ‘Oh, my love, you don’t know how wonderful it is to let go of all those inhibitions and hang-ups you were talking about the day we discussed Kyria Drakakis and Phaedon. I felt sure those were digs at me...that you thought I was tied up in knots.’

  ‘At the beginning I did. You changed my mind about that under the carob on our picnic. Things were going well for us then. But then Robert turned up and I thought you’d been leading me on as a kind of revenge for my attitude to Nerina. There’s a lot of hostility coming from women in general towards men in general these days. You didn’t look or act like an aggressive feminist but those attitudes lurk behind some misleading exteriors. Several friends of mine have been taken to the cleaners by wives and partners who suddenly turned into harpies after the split.’

  ‘Yes, I think something’s gone badly wrong with the way men and women should interact,’ said Kate. ‘Most of the people I know don’t believe any more that there’s any chance of being “happy ever after”. I don’t think it ever was something that happened very often. But sometimes it did. I believe it
will happen to us.’

  ‘I was never more sure of anything,’ Xan told her quietly. ‘I’ve waited for you a long time, but we’re going to be together a much longer time.’

  For the second time that night, he began to make love to her.

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-7713-7

  SEASCAPE

  First North American Publication 1996.

  Copyright © 1995 by Anne Weale.

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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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