I examined the crowd. ‘I can’t see Cordelia.’
‘What a worrier you are, Harriet.’ Archie tapped my cheek. ‘I saw her only a minute ago slipping into the fortune-teller’s tent with that quaintly lubricious cardinal. I hardly think he’ll try to seduce her in the presence of the sibyl from Kensal Green. You need food to subdue that cankerworm within.’
He was right. I was fussing unnecessarily. I must recover my party spirit. I drank another glass of champagne rather fast and took a plate of tiny purple artichokes. I was about to help myself from a tureen of hollandaise when a tiny hand shot out and gripped the ladle. Madame Xanthe’s other hand had a firm grasp on a plate almost as big as herself, piled high with food. I put down the artichokes and dashed off to her tent. I pulled open the flap, hardly knowing what I expected to find. Cordelia and the cardinal were sitting either side of the table, playing an energetic game of snap with tarot cards.
‘Ah, ze big sister come to make certain you are OK.’ The cardinal spread his hands wide, his expression sour, his voice gay. ‘Voilà! Nozing in my sleeve, no tricks. Mam’zelle is safe.’
‘I nearly wasn’t,’ said Cordelia. ‘That bloke in the executioner’s costume was trying to get his hand down my front. Snap!’ Triumphantly she laid The Hanged Man on top of the pile.
‘I see this happening and I menace him wiz his own axe.’
The cardinal and Cordelia seemed to find this very amusing.
‘I’m sorry to break up the game but it’s nearly one o’clock and you promised you’d be in bed an hour ago.’
‘Oh, please, Harriet! I’m having such fun.’
The cardinal waved a finger at Cordelia. ‘I give you a penance. You have one dance wiz me and then you go to bed. What do you say, Mam’zelle Harriet? I swear to take care of la petite fille.’
‘It’s very kind of you. Well, all right.’
The party was afloat on excitement and champagne. I saw Pa and Pussyfoot dancing together, her arms clasped tightly about his armoured neck. Portia and Jonno revolved rapidly across the floor, his trunk flying out, her tail fastened round his waist. Ophelia and Charles moved very slowly amid the whirling revellers, gazing intently into each other’s eyes. Rupert, the only animate, human face in the crowd, ambled languidly about in the arms of a tall blonde girl whose décolletage revealed much bosom.
I experienced again that sense of the grotesque, as though the merriment was the obverse of something ominous. The fixed expressions of exaggerated mirth or pain were sinister, like puppet figures of the Grand Guignol. I felt a sensation of something almost like fear. The necklace seemed to tighten round my throat. There was a shout of laughter as the executioner, obviously drunk, fell over and rolled down the bank into the canal. He emerged, smiling good-humouredly despite the weeds hanging from his ears and took off his mask. It was Hugo Dance.
I looked about anxiously. There was no sign of Cordelia. I pushed my way through the crowd towards the front door of number 10. Inside, the house was silent. It seemed deserted but, unusually, the door of Rupert’s work-room was open. I went in. The room was dark but enough light came through the window from the gas flares to pick up the red of the cardinal’s soutane, which lay crumpled on a chair by the window, his hat thrown carelessly on top. Propped against a cushion the mask stared up at me, its saturnine expression mocking.
The treacherous bastard! How could I have been so stupid as to trust him? I practically snorted with rage as I imagined my sister in the arms of her bogus protector. Then I heard the door close softly behind me and the key grate in the lock. I turned quickly. Though the light was dim, the man who had been standing behind the door, waiting for me, had so often been the object of my covert scrutiny that I recognised him at once, just from the shape of his head and the shadows of his face.
‘Max!’
FORTY-FOUR
‘Hello, Harriet.’
‘What are you doing here? I thought you were in South America!’
‘There are such things as aeroplanes.’
‘Cordelia –’
‘Brushing her teeth, I expect. You needn’t have worried. Little girls don’t tempt me in the least.’
I continued to stare at him, bewildered. ‘But why are you here?’
‘Quite a few people in the Hubert Hat company had invitations. It sounded a good party. I decided to gate-crash. I wish you’d take off that mask. I want to see you properly.’
I had forgotten what a beautiful voice Max had. It was persuasive. I undid the strings obediently.
‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘Come here.’
He walked over to the window. I followed him but positioned myself so that Rupert’s desk was between us. He smiled.
‘All right. So you’re feeling unfriendly. Tell me, why didn’t you answer my letters? I rather thought when we said goodbye at Pye Place that your feelings towards me were – affectionate.’
‘They were.’ Slowly I was gathering my wits. ‘But then I didn’t know about Georgia.’
‘Georgia?’
‘You were good enough to divide your favours between us, I believe.’
‘Ah.’ Max frowned and stared down at a pot of pencils, pens and brushes. Now my eyes had adjusted to the light I could see what a beautiful colour his hair was, like beech leaves in winter. ‘Supposing I tell you it isn’t true.’
‘I shan’t believe you.’
‘You’d condemn a man without hearing the evidence?’
‘I don’t want to know any more about it.’
‘Who’s been blackening my character?’
‘Archie told me.’
Max laughed. ‘So you’d believe that ridiculous oversexed hermaphrodite rather than me. Malicious gossip is meat and drink to men like that.’
‘Archie happens to be one of my very best friends. And I do believe him. Also Georgia herself admitted it.’
‘Did she?’ Max stopped smiling. ‘All right, Harriet. I don’t want to lie to you. It’s true I bedded Georgia. Don’t go!’ I had turned away, suddenly angry with myself for even listening, but Max leaned forward and grabbed my arm. ‘Just a minute. Let me talk to you. Please. I’ve been wretched, wondering why you didn’t write. I’ve flown thousands of miles just to see you. Can’t you give me a chance to explain?’
I had forgotten how fine-drawn his face was, with large eyes that seemed to burn with a sort of saintly asceticism. And there was that fascinating dent at the end of his long, elegant nose.
‘Let go of me. I must stop Dirk barking.’
I had shut Dirk in the kitchen with a dish of bones before the party began. Now, having detected my presence in the house, he was emitting screeches like chalk on a blackboard.
‘In a minute. I understand why you’re angry. It was incredibly stupid of me to sleep with Georgia. Particularly as I didn’t specially want to.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t enjoy hurting people’s feelings, even when they’re as manipulative as Georgia. It’s hard for a man to say no when a girl throws herself at him. And men, after all, are conditioned by society to treat all attractive woman as potential sexual partners. Most women want to be admired and flirted with. If we only wanted to discuss poetry and the devolution of Wales you’d all be pretty annoyed. We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. It seemed easier to go to bed with her than keep fighting her off. But that last night, when she came to my room, I told her it was no go. Though I’d given up the idea of making further progress with you at Pye Place, I knew you were important to me. Very important. I resigned myself to a night of frustration. Then you appeared so unexpectedly and –’ he smiled, ‘I got my reward.’
He stroked my arm and then moved his hand down to take mine. I remembered how he had comforted me when I was unhappy about Pa. How kind he had been to Cordelia. I knew his explanation was reasonable and I believed it.
‘Be fair, Harriet. I bet you can’t think of a single man you know who’d have behaved differently.’
I admitted – strictly to myself �
� that I couldn’t. Bron would not have hesitated to take advantage of sex freely offered with no strings attached. I guessed that Pa also would have availed himself of a quick tumble without a second thought. I wondered about Rupert. He certainly seemed to prefer relationships with women that were brief, casual and impersonal. It was an undeniable fact that few men would have refused such an invitation. Looked at from Max’s point of view I could see my anger was hardly justified.
But suppose – just suppose for one moment – that appalling fantasy, that freak of fancy which had taken shape a few weeks ago and lingered disquietingly in my thoughts ever since, were true? I could forgive Max for sleeping with Georgia. If that were all, we might have been friends, though I had no desire to get into bed with him again. But that other crazy idea, which now sprang into the forefront of my mind – I almost shuddered to find myself alone with him. It couldn’t be true! It must be the result of an overactive imagination and too much third-rate journalism. Rupert had said I lived in a world of make-believe and he was right. Now Max was in the room with me, so plausible, so charming, his smile – his voice – so winning, I doubted my own reason.
Max came round to my side of the desk. ‘Can’t you understand that I’m a man like any other, weak, faulty, vain, if you like, but a man who’s very much in love with you?’ He put up his hand to stroke my cheek, then ran it down to caress my throat. ‘Darling, I’ve missed you terribly. When I saw that necklace I did allow myself to hope that you still cared for me just a little. Let me prove to you that I can be as faithful as any woman could possibly desire – to the point of satiety.’ His lips brushed my forehead. ‘Damn this dress. It’s like trying to embrace someone who’s wearing a chest of drawers.’
He pulled me closer, forcing the hoop of my skirt to stick up behind like a preposterous bustle. In other circumstances the situation would have been absurd enough to make me laugh but I was not in the mood to find anything funny.
‘I’d have to be mad to even think of anyone else,’ he murmured. ‘I’m wild about you. Don’t you realise how happy we could be if you could only put that stupid business with Georgia out of your mind?’
‘Perhaps,’ I said, pushing him far enough away so that I could see the expression in his eyes. ‘But the trouble is I don’t think I could ever quite put out of my mind the possibility that besides being good-looking, charming and obviously a very talented actor, you’re also –’ I took a deep breath – ‘very likely a murderer.’
Max stopped stroking, murmuring, even breathing. If I had doubted before, those few seconds of stillness turned my suspicion into certainty. I saw in his eyes a look that was unmistakably fear.
‘Is that a joke?’ He laughed and regained his composure instantly. ‘Sweet girl, you’ll never be dull.’
He tried to kiss me but I twisted my face away.
‘I’m not joking. It was you, wasn’t it, who shone the spotlight on the stage to mark the spot where someone had to stand to be killed by the lightning bolt? You were at the rehearsal when it came down by accident and that gave you the idea of the perfect murder. You took the weights off the counter-balance so it would come crashing down and kill poor old Basil. But of course it wasn’t Basil you wanted to kill. Caroline was in love with my father. She wanted to divorce you and marry him. You didn’t give a damn about Caroline – but you wanted to be able to go on spending her money – all that stuff you told me about liking to be ordinary and wearing scruffy clothes and living simply was a lie, like everything else.’
‘What a provocative creature you are!’ Max took my face between his hands. ‘A little crazy but that’s exciting.’
‘I’m right, aren’t I? And what’s really ironic – what would make it funny if so many people hadn’t been so hurt by it – is that Pa had no intention of marrying Caroline. He didn’t even like her very much. But he was too cowardly to tell her. He’s going to marry P – Fleur Kirkpatrick. So it was all for nothing – all the trouble you went to, pretending to be interested in me – and I was stupid enough to think you really liked me.’
‘You’re raving, my darling. You’ve had too much to drink and you don’t know what you’re saying. My poor girl, you badly need someone to take care of you. I’m going to start by making love to you. I’ve been wanting to do that again for a very long time.’
I struggled to free myself but he held me firmly. He tried to kiss me but I turned my face away. I remembered what Portia had once told me about kneeing men in the groin but this was impossible with the hoop and several metres of embroidered brocade and petticoat between us. Max put both hands around my neck. The torque cut into my throat as his grip tightened. I could not breathe. I felt a tremendous pressure in my ears and the music and Dirk’s barking grew faint. I tried to pull his hair with one hand while hitting him with the other but I was weak from lack of oxygen. His tongue was in my mouth and I was suffocating, unable to scream. The room began to swim. What a fool I’ve been, I thought as everything went dark, I’m too young to die and there’s so much I don’t know – and who’s going to look after Cordelia – and Dirk and Mark Ant – suddenly Max let me go. I heard a crash as of furniture breaking, followed by the smashing of china.
I took a gulp of air. It took me a little while to focus my eyes. Max was lying full length on the floor, surrounded by pieces of Sèvres and the legs of a Sheraton table. I held my throat in one hand and my head, which was throbbing, in the other.
‘You were only just – in time,’ I meant to say but it came out as an unintelligible croak.
‘A fine example to set your little sister,’ said Rupert. ‘A-how!’ He was nursing his right hand in his armpit. ‘I’ve never hit anyone before. I certainly shan’t do it again. It’s bloody agony.’ He groaned and sucked his knuckles. ‘Next time you decided to entertain a lover alone in a locked room, make sure you want to go through with it. It was lucky I had a spare key.’
‘I didn’t – know it was Max – I wanted to see that Cordelia –’ was what I intended to say but my larynx was on fire.
‘Did he hurt you?’
‘He was trying to – kill me,’ I squawked.
‘Speak up. I can’t understand you.’ Rupert’s voice was level but there was a hint of impatience in it. I could only whimper, inarticulately. He frowned. ‘You’re really upset, aren’t you?’
He put his arms round me. I pressed my head against his chest and would have sobbed if I had had breath enough. Rupert held me stiffly, in a manner to discourage hysterics. ‘Come on, Harriet. You’re quite safe. He’s hardly going to rape you while I’m here. Anyway, I seem to have knocked him out cold.’
‘Not – rape!’ I gasped.
‘You mean you wanted him to? God! I shall never understand women.’
‘Has anyone seen Pinkki?’ Archie stood in the doorway. ‘I told him to wait for me in the garden but – Oho! So you’ve finally got round to it. Well, thank goodness for that. It’s been a long time brewing but – What’s Frensham doing here? I didn’t send him an invitation.’ Archie went to stand over Max. ‘He’s not dead, is he?’
Rupert pushed me to one side and crouched over Max’s motionless body. ‘He’d better not be! Get some water from somewhere. I’ll loosen his collar.’
The idea that because of me Rupert might have to spend the rest of his life in a tiny cell in Winton Shrubs spurred me to action. I picked up a vase of sweet peas and dashed the water – and the flowers – on to Max’s white, unconscious face. It seemed to have no effect so I hurled after it the remains of a pot of tea – cold, fortunately – and the contents of the inkwell.
‘That’ll do. You’re making a horrible mess. He’s coming to.’
‘What the – Oh, Christ! Harriet … Fuck! I think my jaw’s broken.’ Max lay with his eyes open, looking up at us, his hand clasping his chin. ‘What happened?’
‘I hit you,’ said Rupert. ‘I mistook passion for resistance. I’m sorry. Can you open and close your mouth?’
Max did so, wincin
g. ‘It’s OK, I think. What’s this?’ He picked a flower from his shirt-front and looked at it, puzzled. ‘I’m soaking wet. Jesus! I’m covered with blood!’
‘It’s red ink. Harriet got carried away.’ Rupert was looking amused now. ‘Fortunately, her aim isn’t too good.’
Max was a shocking sight. Not only was his hair dripping and his chest sprinkled with flowers and tea-leaves but one side of his face was stained bright red. Rupert helped him up. Max got out his handkerchief to mop his face. He caught sight of himself in the mirror above the fireplace and groaned.
‘I suppose the ink was permanent?’
I examined the bottle. ‘I’m afraid so.’
Max looked at Rupert and then at me. I guessed he was wondering what I had told him.
‘Harriet – Look, I got carried away.’ Max gave a mirthless laugh. ‘You shouldn’t lead people on, you know. You don’t know what power a beautiful woman has over a man. I’m sorry.’
I said nothing. My mind was jumping from one idea to another and I was unable to make sense of anything.
Max grinned at Rupert in a man-to-man way. ‘I can see I’ve made an awful mess of things. Let me speak to Harriet alone, will you? One doesn’t want an audience if one’s going to crawl.’
Rupert looked at me. I shook my head. ‘Don’t mind me.’ Rupert folded his arms and leaned against the desk.
‘I shan’t breathe a word,’ said Archie. ‘At least only to a few discreet friends.’
Max bit his lip. ‘Come outside with me, Harriet, will you? You’ll have hundreds of chaperones. If I get another rush of blood to the head you can push me into the canal.’
‘Go away.’ I had recovered my voice sufficiently to speak distinctly. ‘I hope I never see you again.’
Max took a step towards me but I moved closer to Rupert and took hold of the fingers that stuck out from under his folded arms. They closed reassuringly on mine.
Clouds among the Stars Page 67
