And once asleep, she had no trouble in staying asleep, thanks to her outdoor life and the wonderful air in the south-west of Ireland. In fact until that night, two weeks before Christmas, Artemis could never remember once waking up from the moment she turned off her bedside light until the moment her alarm clock rang.
But this night, a cold and windy Sunday night, the second Sunday of Advent, she suddenly woke up, and with such a sense of utter terror she would have fled the house there and then.
Had her bedroom door not been locked. From the outside.
Artemis stood staring at the door. The key was gone from the keyhole. And the door was well and truly locked. Sheridan had locked her in. Why lock her in? What had happened, or was happening that he was afraid Artemis might see? And how many times had it happened before? Artemis went to the window to check whether or not that evening’s quota of guests had gone, and saw there were still four cars in the drive. And yet no light spilled from any windows in the house, and listening, back against the locked door, Artemis could hear not a sound from anywhere, no voices, no music, no laughter. Just silence. The house was as quiet as the grave.
She stood by the door, her hand still holding the dog by his collar. She wanted to bang on the door and shout and call for help. But she knew no-one would come, because somehow she knew there was no-one out there to hear her, just as she knew when she had been a child at Brougham that all the servants had gone out.
Finally she went back to bed, pulling a trembling Brutus up on to it with her. Moments later, as if at an unseen signal, the dog stopped panting and trembling, and with a sigh and a yawn lay down to sleep. Artemis listened, straining to catch some sound which might explain why the dog had so suddenly found its ease. But the house was still utterly silent.
Although she couldn’t find the reason for it, her own terror abated, as quickly as her dog’s had done. From feeling quite hopelessly struck with deep panic, Artemis suddenly felt as though a great danger had passed, and that the dark night was over. There was no sign of dawn yet, but nonetheless everything felt inexplicably brighter and lighter. Even the air in her bedroom now seemed to be fresh, when only moments ago it had been stale and had hung heavy, as if no-one had opened a window or door in the room for months.
Artemis settled back down in her bed and stared out of the window. She had left the curtains open so that she could see first light, and she did not lie back and close her eyes until the first rays of the sun had spread glowing red fingers up into the skies, by which time she had finally decided there was very little point in continuing to be civilized, as her mother-in-law liked to have it, about her bizarre and loveless marriage.
‘I’ve been asked to Galway,’ Artemis said over breakfast. Her husband was in his dressing gown, shaved, but pale and exhausted. Artemis on the other hand was fully dressed and had made quite sure she looked as though she had slept the whole night through.
‘Will you be back for Christmas?’
‘That depends whether or not I fall off.’
‘Are you going mountain climbing?’
‘I’ve been invited to hunt with the Blazers,’ she lied.
‘When are you going?’
‘This morning.’
‘That’s rather sudden, isn’t it? Even for you?’
‘Probably,’ Artemis said as she rose. ‘Expect me when you see me.’
All the time and for no good reason Artemis expected him to call her back, or to follow her upstairs and relock her in her room, or to come after her in his car as she drove away. But Sheridan did none of these things. Instead she saw him standing at one of his bedroom windows, half hidden by the drapes, watching her all the while as she piled her suitcases into the back of her new car, and her hunting saddle and riding boots, and finally Brutus, who’d been running round and round the car, as impatient as she was to escape.
Finally, with her dog settled beside her, Artemis started her car and drove off down the long straight drive, without another look or a wave to her husband, whom she knew was still standing staring down from his bedroom. But when she reached the main road she turned left, not right, heading south for Strand House and not north for Galway.
‘So what the divil was happening,’ Cousin Rose asked, ‘if he had cause to lock ye in yer room?’
‘I can’t imagine,’ Artemis replied. ‘And I don’t even want to try.’
‘Ach they were probably all getting drunk,’ Cousin Rose said, after some thought. ‘Ye know men.’
‘Absolutely,’ Artemis agreed, seeing no point in even attempting to put Cousin Rose on the right path, while remembering how the hackles on her dog’s neck had stood right up.
‘What about the horses?’
‘I’m having Boot boxed down,’ Artemis said. ‘And I’ve made arrangements for the others.’
They sat in silence while Tutti refilled their glasses.
‘So,’ Rose finally said. ‘And so what’ll ye do now? Until the annulment’s through?’
‘I don’t know,’ Artemis replied, with a toss of her blonde hair. ‘I think I’d quite like to get a little bit tight actually.’
Porter unstopped the bottle of Veuve Cliquot and poured the first two glasses as always without spilling a drop.
‘Happy birthday, my darling,’ said Ellie, raising her glass to Hugo. ‘To you, and to a wonderful year.’
‘The very best year of my life,’ Hugo said. ‘Thanks to you.’
‘Nonsense,’ laughed Ellie. ‘Thanks to you. To you.’ She raised her glass again. ‘Hurrah for you.’
‘Hurrah for you.’
‘Hurrah for us.’
After lunch, when the servants, as Ellie liked to think of it, had vanished back into the walls, she and Hugo walked hand in hand through the house, taking stock of what they had done. Ellie had been surprised how quickly a house once it was left unoccupied could fall into disrepair, until Hugo pointed out that Artemis’s father must have done very little to keep it in good order, preferring, as so many of his kind it seemed did, to spend his money on the improvement of hounds rather than house.
‘And as for my poor father,’ Hugo had explained, ‘he hardly had time to do more than scratch the surface.’
So Hugo and Ellie had set to restoring the great house to its glory and had already achieved a considerable amount. The library was finished and furnished, with its shelves once more full of books. The small withdrawing room, repainted a faint yellow, was also furnished again, with elegant Regency sofas and chairs, and two matching Hepplewhite card tables. But the large drawing room was bare, with no furniture, and no paintings on the walls. The saloon needed hardly any embellishment, so magnificent a room was it, with its elaborately carved domed ceiling and its magnificent doorways and decorated arched recesses. Neither did the great hall, with its rows of fluted alabaster monoliths, coved ceiling and three circular skylights. The only items which Hugo and Ellie needed to replace there were the niched statues, which Hugo was in the process of having copied from old photographs.
There was still any amount of work to do upstairs in the main part of the house, but they had managed to furnish and complete one of the main bedrooms, its adjoining dressing rooms and adjacent bathroom for themselves. It was the main bedroom at the top of the grand staircase, with two huge windows overlooking the park. Ellie loved it, with its huge four-poster bed and large comfortable furniture, which included a chaiselongue in one window where Ellie used to lie early in the afternoon and look out across the lake, and best of all, a boudoir grand piano which Hugo had installed for her, and which Ellie sometimes would play just before they went to bed.
She played and sung for Hugo that afternoon, a song she’d just learned, called ‘I Can’t Get Started’, while Hugo insisted on slowly removing all her clothes while she played and sang until she sat quite naked and in a fit of laughter at the keyboard.
They made love and then lay silent in each other’s arms, Ellie with her head on Hugo’s chest, Hugo half propped up on huge pi
llows, listening to the noise of the log fire in the grate and the February rains lashing against the huge windows, before they both dropped off into a blissful sleep.
‘Good heavens,’ Ellie suddenly said, waking up. Hugo stirred under her. ‘What?’
‘Artemis.’
‘What about her?’ Hugo stretched out his left arm, upon which Ellie had been lying, to flex away the pins and needles. Ellie was getting out of bed, reaching for her clothes. ‘Where are you going, you crazy American woman?’ Hugo demanded, looking for his spectacles.
‘Quickly, Hugo. Don’t you want to see?’
Hugo put his spectacles on and stared at his wife as she struggled into her clothes. ‘Have you gone mad?’ he asked. ‘Or caught a fever? What is there to see? Why are you getting dressed?’
‘Hugo –’ Ellie turned back, buttoning up her blouse and tossing back her dark hair. ‘You don’t seem to understand! Artemis is here!’
Hugo got out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown and joined Ellie at the window. ‘What do you mean Ell? Artemis is here?’
Ellie said nothing, just wiped the condensation off the inside of one of the windows with the sleeve of her sweater and peered out into the dusk. Hugo did the same, without an idea of what he was meant to be looking for.
The rain was lashing the windows even harder now, driven by a winter gale, and it was getting darker by the minute.
‘There!’ Ellie suddenly cried. ‘See! I told you!’
She ran out of the room. Hugo peered out of the window and before chasing after Ellie who had a good headstart on him, saw through the downpour a pair of car headlights heading up the drive towards the house.
‘How on earth do you know it’s Artemis?’ he shouted after Ellie, who was now halfway down the stairs.
‘I just do! That’s all!’
Ellie missed out the last three stairs and skidding across the marbled hall, got to the main doors ahead of Hugo. She flung them open and stood there, pulling her sweater around her while the wind drove the rain and sleet past her into the house. Hugo came to her shoulder, barefoot and in only his wool dressing gown, and stood with his teeth chattering and a hand shielding his eyes against the storm, watching as a car turned in through the main gates and finally pulled up at the foot of the stone staircase.
‘If that was Artemis,’ Hugo said, ‘she’d have knocked down the gates.’
‘It’s Artemis all right,’ Ellie assured him, as a slim woman in a man’s trilby and belted camel-hair coat hauled herself out of the driving seat. ‘Artemis?’ she shouted down the steps and into the rain.
The woman looked up at them briefly, before turning back to fetch a silver topped cane from the car. Past her, from the back of the car and almost knocking her over, a big brown-haired dog leaped out and bounded up the staircase.
‘Artemis!’ Ellie shouted joyously, running out into the storm. ‘Artemis – I just knew it was you!’ She reached her before Artemis had even made the first steps. ‘Artemis,’ she said, smiling at her through the torrential rain.
Artemis smiled back. ‘Hullo, Eleanor,’ she said.
Hugo waited at the door, freezing half to death, while the two girls embraced and then made their slow way up the staircase.
Artemis stared at him from under her rain sodden hat. ‘Hullo, Hugo,’ she said.
‘Hello, Tom.’ Inexplicably Hugo found the sight of the two girls, arm in arm, made his heart sink.
He was asleep when Ellie finally came to bed, or at least he was doing his best to pretend he was.
‘Sorry,’ Ellie whispered as she eased herself in beside him and felt Hugo stir.
‘You know what time it is, don’t you?’ he asked, keeping his back turned on her.
‘Does it matter?’ Ellie said. ‘We had so much to catch up on.’
‘I have to go to London tomorrow, Ellie.’
‘I know. That’s why you came to bed early, sweetheart.’ Ellie kissed him on the back of his head. ‘Happy end of birthday.’
Hugo turned and took her in his arms. ‘It’s not quite over yet,’ he said.
13
‘Don’t you ever draw breath, Ellie?’ Hugo eyed Ellie over the top of his glasses and then put down his knife and fork with a pointed sigh. But all Ellie did was just glance at him, put one hand over one of his and carry on talking to Artemis who was sitting opposite her.
‘There was too much fat on these cutlets,’ Hugo complained, pushing his plate away from him. ‘And the soup was cold.’
‘OK,’ Ellie said, ‘I’ll have a word with cook,’ and then resumed her conversation.
‘And stop saying OK.’
‘OK. All right! I will.’ This time rather than just looking at him affectionately, Ellie flashed him a short but angry glance.
‘OK this,’ said Hugo, ‘OK that. OK, OK, OK.’
Ellie put down her knife and fork.
‘Not like that,’ Hugo sighed, moving her knife and fork from one side of her plate. ‘In the middle if you’ve finished –’
‘I haven’t finished, Hugo.’
‘In that case then one on either side. Comme ça.’
Ellie looked at Artemis then back at Hugo. ‘Is something the matter, Hugo?’ she asked.
‘Ah at last!’ Hugo exclaimed. ‘At last you’ve noticed me! You’ve actually noticed that I’m here! I was beginning to think I must be invisible! But no! You’ve addressed a remark to me! So I can’t be! You can actually see me!’
There was a silence while Ellie bit her lip and Artemis stared at her last lamb cutlet. Then Ellie could contain herself no more and dissolved in a fit of laughter, with her table napkin held firmly to her mouth. Hugo glared at her, his eyes wide with a mixture of dismay and fury, but Ellie just sat with her head bowed, trying her best to muffle her sobs of mirth. Hugo turned to Artemis, but Artemis was still staring down over-earnestly at her lamb cutlet. ‘Oh dear God!’ Hugo cried, and throwing his napkin on the table. ‘Dear God in heaven!’ Then he rose and left the room.
‘How long is she staying, Ellie?’
‘I haven’t asked her, Hugo.’
‘Isn’t it she who should be asking you?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I would just like to know how long she is intending to stay.’
‘I thought you liked Artemis?’
‘Ellie – that is not the point!’
‘She hasn’t anywhere to go.’
‘She has plenty of places to go.’
Ellie sat up in bed and turned on her light. Hugo groaned and pulled the covers over his head.
‘You mean she doesn’t need people, not really, not if she has connections?’
‘I didn’t say that, Ellie.’
‘If she’s privileged, then she doesn’t need the love and care and attention of her friends! That’s what you mean, don’t you! She can just go elsewhere! To some innumerable relative –’
‘To one of her innumerable relatives – and no that is not what I meant at all!’
‘Of course it is. What the heck. She has no family, she’s just lost her home, her husband –’
‘He wasn’t her husband, Ellie!’
‘She was married to him, Hugo! So what does that make him if it doesn’t make him her husband!’
‘For God’s sake, Ellie, whatever he was he certainly wasn’t her husband! Not if what Artemis told you is true!’
‘Of course it’s true, Hugo! Why should she lie about a thing like that?’
‘I really don’t understand why you need her here!’
‘This was once her home, you know, Hugo!’
‘Ah!’ Hugo pointed a finger at her. ‘You feel guilty! You feel guilty because we’re living in Artemis’s old home!’
‘I do not – feel guilty!’ Ellie protested.
‘Of course you do!’ Hugo laughed. ‘And you want to make it up to her! Well you won’t be able to! You can’t make up to Artemis for being Artemis!’
‘Don’t laugh at me!’ Ellie warned, getti
ng out of bed. ‘Don’t you dare laugh at me!’
Hugo took hold of her wrist and held her back. ‘Come on, Ellie,’ he reasoned. ‘See sense.’
‘Let me go, Hugo!’ Ellie wrenched herself free and picking up her dressing gown, made for the door.
Hugo took a deep breath and lay back on his pillows. ‘Where do you think you’re going, Ellie?’ he asked, with a sigh.
‘You wanted to get some sleep, didn’t you!’ Ellie called back from the doorway. ‘So get some! I’ll sleep in the yellow room!’
Hugo was in the main drawing room, with various paints the decorators had left him to try on the walls, when Artemis wandered in with her dog. Hugo said hullo then daubed a wall with the first of the trial colours. Artemis asked him where Ellie was, and Hugo said she was most probably in the kitchens, organizing the staff for the day. But instead of going off in search of her friend, Artemis sat on the ledge of one of the great windows and looked out at what had once, but all too briefly, been hers.
They said nothing to each other for a long time, Hugo continuing to try out all the various colours, while Artemis sat in the window whistling quietly and tunelessly to herself. Hugo did his best not to let the sound bother him while for her part Artemis did her best to resist criticizing Hugo’s possible choice of colours for the beautiful room.
Hugo was the first to capitulate. ‘If you’re going to whistle,’ he said, ‘couldn’t it be something we all know?’
‘I didn’t know I was whistling,’ Artemis replied. ‘You should have said.’
‘I have just said,’ Hugo replied. ‘You’re the first person I’ve heard who can actually whistle out of tune.’
‘You’re not thinking of painting it, are you? In that?’ Artemis pointed her stick at a trial patch of pale blue.
‘What’s wrong with it?’
In Sunshine Or In Shadow Page 29
