‘Of course,’ Ellie agreed.
Artemis would have liked to pursue the point, but there was a knock on the door and Doctor Leigh, one of the hospital doctors came in.
‘Right,’ he said breezily. ‘I’d say things could have been a lot worse. I should imagine you didn’t have much room to take a good swing at him –’ he stopped and smiled at Artemis, who felt as if she was a cricketer who had taken a chancy swing at the fast bowler. ‘Anyway,’ the doctor continued, ‘I’d say the wound’s only superficial and we’re not going to end up with our skull fractured.’
‘Is he conscious yet?’ Ellie asked.
‘Not fully,’ the doctor replied. ‘But we’re showing signs of rejoining the party.’
Doctor Leigh stood aside at the door, and the two women went upstairs. Hugo was lying on the bed white-faced and propped up against the pillows, his head well bandaged but his eyes still closed. Ellie and Artemis stood at the end of the bed, waiting for his full return to consciousness, which according to the nurse could be expected any minute since the patient had already opened his eyes twice.
Then he opened them for the third time, and this time kept them open, focusing first on the ceiling, and then on the two women who stood facing him. He opened his eyes as wide as he could, before blinking several times. Out of his sight, behind the footboard of the bed, Ellie twisted a handkerchief she was holding in her hands. ‘Hullo, Hugo,’ she said. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes,’ he said slowly, and after a moment. ‘Yes I’m fine. What happened?’ He put a hand up to his head and felt the bandage. He also felt the pain, because he grimaced and closed his eyes. ‘God,’ he whispered. ‘Ouch.’
‘I’m afraid you got a nasty bang on the head,’ Ellie said.
‘You don’t say,’ Hugo replied, with a boyish grin. ‘I’d hoped it was just a hangover. So who hit me?’ There was a silence, during which Ellie and Artemis looked to the doctor. ‘How did it happen?’ Hugo insisted. ‘Did I fall over? Or out of bed? Or what?’
Doctor Leigh shrugged and nodded at Artemis, as if to tell her to go ahead if she so wished. Ellie frowned, and was about to say something herself, but left it too late.
‘I hit you, Hugo,’ Artemis said. ‘It was me.’
‘You did?’ he said. ‘Why?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Ellie said quickly.
‘Of course it does,’ Hugo laughed, and then grimaced again, putting a hand to his head. ‘I want to know why she hit me.’
‘Because,’ Artemis said quite deliberately, ‘you tried to rape me.’
Hugo stared at her wide-eyed, and then frowned, his hand still to his head. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. ‘You can’t rape your own wife.’
20
‘Eleanor,’ Artemis said defensively. ‘Look, it really isn’t my damn’ fault that he thinks I’m you.’
‘He doesn’t think you’re me, that I reckon maybe I could live with. But he doesn’t think you’re me, damn it. Hugo thinks you’re you!’
‘Whatever,’ Artemis replied. ‘It’s not my fault.’
‘I wonder.’
Artemis looked up quickly, aware of the edge in Ellie’s tone. ‘Sorry?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure of what, Eleanor?’
‘Sure it’s not your fault, Artemis.’
Ellie looked at her steadily, and Artemis noticed just how pale and drawn Ellie looked. Her skin had lost its normally wonderful sheen, her beautiful eyes were dull and darkly shadowed, she had lost weight, and even her hair seemed lifeless and mousy, instead of lustrous and thick.
Rather than argue with Ellie when she was in such an obviously dispirited state, Artemis decided to try and return to her own point. ‘The fact is, Eleanor,’ she said, ‘we both know we can’t go on like this. I know I can’t. I can’t spend this part of my life hanging around a man whom I don’t love and who whatever he says now, actually doesn’t love me.’
‘He thinks he does,’ Ellie replied.
‘I know, but that’s neither here nor there. When he gets his memory back completely –’
‘If he gets his memory back completely.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Eleanor,’ Artemis insisted. ‘I have a life of my own. A life that is nothing to do with Hugo.’
‘Not now it isn’t,’ Ellie agreed. ‘Now you have Patsy.’
‘Absolutely. Now you’ll have to excuse me. I have things to do.’ Artemis pulled herself up from where she was sitting and made a move to go.
‘Artemis – why were you here last Christmas?’ Ellie asked, at last getting to the point. ‘And why did Hugo pretend there was a party?’
‘Hugo asked me to stay to lunch,’ Artemis replied after a moment. ‘I don’t know why he told you there was a party. We had lunch with the staff. In the kitchen.’
‘Like one big happy family.’
‘It would have been absurd to sit up here all by ourselves.’
‘But you were all by yourselves when you stayed the night,’ Ellie said. Artemis turned round and stared at Ellie, wondering how she could possibly have known. Ellie stared back at her, unsmiling. ‘Cook told me,’ she said.
‘Then Cook’s a silly ass,’ Artemis replied. ‘It was all perfectly innocent.’
‘So innocent you couldn’t even mention it?’ Reaching over to the table beside her, Ellie picked up a leather covered book and tossed it at Artemis who, surprised, just caught it. ‘What about those?’ she asked. ‘Are they all perfectly innocent?’
Artemis opened the book. It was one of Hugo’s sketchbooks, but one Artemis had never seen. It was full of studies of her, just her, asleep, half-dressed, half-naked, curled up in bed, stretched out on the ground, sketches of her walking, eating, drinking, sitting, or of just her head, smiling, in repose, serious, and once again, asleep. They were exquisite drawings, full of emotional power, and obsession. ‘I don’t care what you think, Eleanor,’ Artemis said, closing the book and handing it back. ‘As I said, it was completely innocent. And as for these, I don’t know when Hugo did these. Hugo was never alone with me, not – not like this.’ She paused, opened the book once more, and then shut it. ‘He must have drawn those from his imagination.’
‘Hugo doesn’t draw from his imagination,’ Ellie said quietly. ‘Not when he’s sketching. I know that, and so, damn it, do you.’ She swore very quietly, which frightened Artemis all the more. It was all very well being accused of something you had done, she thought, because one could prepare a defence. But the very worst was to be accused of something in which you had played no part.
‘He must have done these in Ireland,’ she said. ‘When he was doing your portrait.’
‘Why would he do these in Ireland?’ Ellie asked. ‘When he was doing my portrait?’
The two women stared at each other, neither giving best. ‘You don’t have to believe me, Eleanor,’ Artemis was the first to break the silence. ‘But I’m telling you the truth. It was all perfectly innocent.’
‘What about London?’
‘What about London?’
‘You saw each other in London.’
‘You know we saw each other in London, Eleanor. Don’t be such an idiot!’
‘I was an idiot, wasn’t I?’
Again they regarded each other, and again Artemis spoke first. ‘Nothing happened. I promise you. Nothing.’
‘Not for want of wishful thinking. That’s perfectly obvious from those drawings.’
Arternis threw the sketchbook down on a chair. ‘I can’t help how Hugo felt, or what he felt.’
‘You could have done,’ Ellie said. ‘You could have done, goddam you.’
Ellie was the one who left the ‘sulking’ room first, walking out past Artemis, leaving her to sit down on the arm of a chair and wonder what on earth to do next.
‘I don’t think Lady Artemis should be encouraged to go to London now,’ Mr Peake said after giving the matter his usual full deliberation. ‘Not when so much progress has been made. If I can draw
a somewhat apt analogy?’ Ellie nodded at him to proceed but continued to walk around her office.
‘When we began, when your husband was first injured, he was like one of his jigsaw puzzles, all to pieces. Then, when he arrived here, it was as if a child had done the puzzle, finished it, but put it together all wrong. Nothing fitted, bits were pushed in here, other bits there, the picture just didn’t fit. Now, having taken the puzzle back apart, we have a picture, where nearly everything fits.’
‘But it still isn’t the picture on the lid of the box,’ Ellie said.
‘Correct,’ Mr Peake smiled. ‘Good. But it very nearly is. A little more study, a little more work, and who knows? But if we lose Lady Artemis now –’ He shrugged and fell to silence.
‘Humpty Dumpty,’ Ellie said suddenly.
‘I’m sorry?’ the doctor enquired of her.
‘The nursery rhyme,’ Ellie replied. ‘I used to say it to Jamie, when I held him on my knee.’ Jamie was so far away from her, like everything she loved. ‘Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,’ Ellie said, looking out of the window across the frosty parkland. ‘Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men –’
‘I don’t think it’s as bad as that, Mrs Tanner,’ Mr Peake’s voice said quietly from behind her.
‘I do,’ Ellie said. ‘I think it’s twice as bad as that.’
It was at least agreed that until Mr Peake had finished assessing Hugo’s present condition, he was to be moved to a single room upstairs and kept under constant surveillance.
Hugo took it badly. ‘I’m not a raving lunatic, Elsie,’ he said to Ellie suddenly one day.
‘Ellie,’ said Ellie, less patiently than usual. ‘And I agree, Hugo, you’re not a raving lunatic – I am.’
‘Send my wife in,’ was all Hugo would say.
Towards the end of the month, Artemis received good news. Patsy was coming to England. He had volunteered to be transferred to Britain as part of the American task force whose proposed purpose was to carry out a series of daytime bombing raids on important German industrial targets, and fighter cover was going to be required.
Artemis’s joy at the thought of seeing him again was not unnaturally tempered by the thought of the dangerous missions he would be flying. He was to be stationed in East Anglia, which, with a daily worsening in the country’s transport system was going to make the job of getting to Brougham on leave an arduous one.
‘But at least you’ll be seein’ one another,’ Rosie said to her when she cleared away her breakfast. ‘Imagine. You could be same as Mrs Tanner and young Jamie, you could go the whole war without seein’ him.’
Artemis agreed and then picked up the telephone to find out her duties at the hospital that morning. Ellie answered the telephone.
‘Patsy’s coming here,’ Artemis told her abruptly.
‘I know,’ Ellie replied. ‘I had a letter from him myself.’
‘How’s the patient? How’s Hugo?’
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Ellie answered. ‘He’s much better, as a matter of fact. He said today he wanted to start painting again.’
‘That’s good,’ Artemis agreed, and then chancing her arm, added, ‘From life? Or from his imagination?’
From the subsequent silence Artemis thought as usual she had gone too far. Then she heard Ellie laugh, quite like herself. ‘From his imagination,’ Ellie said. ‘What else?’
One bright sunny day at the end of the month, Artemis wrapped up well and took a walk up to the house. She had been in bed with the ’flu, but was feeling better, and all too anxious for some fresh air. Brutus as always went with her, but seemed a little out of sorts himself, no longer willing to chase the winter winds, or put up the game birds who strutted round the parklands. Artemis called to him, and threw him a stick, but although Brutus fetched it a couple of times, Artemis noted he was panting more than usual, and was slightly dragging one of his back legs.
‘Come here, old chap,’ she called, and having hugged him, and kissed the top of his noble old head, which was now very grey, asked if she could have a look at his paw. Brutus panted, but lay down and rolled over on his back, thinking he was going to have his tummy rubbed. Artemis smiled at him, pulled his whiskers, and rubbed his tummy for him, and the big dog thumped his tail in response against the grass. Then she carefully took hold of his bad leg and examined the pads of his feet. As soon as she held his leg, the dog cried sharply in pain, and frowned at her from under his shaggy eyebrows.
‘Sorry, Brutus, I wouldn’t hurt you for anything. But you’ve got something in that foot of yours. We’d better get McCabe to have a look at that when he comes by.’
The dog followed Artemis as she continued her way to the house, but when she reached the main gates she looked round for him and saw that he was no longer behind her. Instead he was sitting some hundred yards away by a gate leading into one of the paddocks. She whistled to him and called, but having looked round at her, he decided to remain where he was.
‘Fair enough,’ Artemis called to him, ‘you do what you want old chap.’ And then calling to him to wait for her, she turned and made her way up into the house.
They’d approached the house from the rear, so Artemis made her way up the steps and in through the saloon and then across the back hall, where to her surprise she found Hugo up some re-erected scaffolding, at work repainting his mural. He was hard at work at such close quarters he failed to notice his visitor.
Artemis stared at the wall painting and found herself gasping. Whereas before the work had depicted Hugo and Ellie’s life at Brougham, with Artemis seen only in the background on her horse, now she was everywhere, and Ellie was nowhere. Hugo had painted Ellie’s face out altogether, and was busy painting Artemis’s likeness in her place.
Artemis was pictured doing everything that Ellie had previously done in the mural, laying picnics, holding Jamie, playing tennis, cards, redecorating rooms, hosting dinners, standing out on the steps, climbing trees, swimming, and everywhere Ellie had been portrayed with Hugo, Artemis now was, embracing Hugo, standing with her arm through his, or both arms through one of his, or with her arm round his waist, or his arms round hers, or both of theirs round both of theirs, or with an arm draped casually round his shoulder, or with his arm draped casually round hers, or whatever. Hugo was busily perpetuating his mythic memories for posterity.
‘Hey!’ Artemis called up to him. ‘Hugo, what the devil do you think you’re playing at?’
Hugo stopped and looked round and down at her, staring upside down through the scaffolding. ‘Tom!’ he said with sudden delight, wiping his paint-covered hands on a rag before hopping down from his tower. ‘Heavens, I haven’t seen you in an age!’
‘I’ve had a bit of ‘flu, but I’m quite better now. Obviously you’re not.’
‘Sorry?’ Hugo said, still wiping his paintbrush.
‘Oh, stop being such an ape,’ Artemis snapped, staring up at the mural. ‘And just tell me what you think you’re playing at? I hope to God Ellie hasn’t seen this.’
‘What’s wrong with it? Don’t you like it?’ Hugo asked, with a hurt frown. ‘I hope you do. I’m doing it for you.’
Artemis was suddenly, uncontrollably furious. ‘Why the devil have you painted my face on everybody? Look! Look even the blasted cat looks like me!’
‘Everything looks like you,’ Hugo answered simply. ‘I see your face in everything.’
‘Oh be quiet, will you!’ Artemis hissed at him. ‘Just be quiet! For God’s sake!’
‘I don’t know why you’re so angry. Please tell me why you’re angry.’
‘Because of this, you fool.’
He frowned at her again, and then looked back up at the wall. ‘But why?’ he said. ‘That’s us. Look. That’s our whole life here together.’
Artemis stared up at the senseless painting, and then back at the man beside her, the man she had once imagined she could love, a man she had even imagined briefly
she did love. He was standing staring at her, a lovesick schoolboy. ‘I’m going back to London,’ she announced.
‘What?’
‘I said I’m going back to London, Hugo. And as soon as possible.’
‘Back?’ he laughed. ‘How can you go back? You don’t live there. You live here.’
‘No I don’t, and you damn well know it. And if you don’t damn well know it, then it’s high time you did. I am going back to London, and I am going back to work there, doing what I did before, before I was fool enough to come down here.’
‘You mean before we married?’
‘We aren’t married, Hugo. You are married to Ellie. Not to me.’
‘Ellie?’ He stared at her blankly.
‘You know full well who Ellie is, Hugo.’
‘I know who you mean by Ellie, yes, Tom. But I’m not married to her. I’m married to you.’
‘Prove it.’
‘Prove it?’ he laughed. ‘Has everyone gone quite mad round here? Tom I love you! I always have done!’
‘I don’t care, Hugo. I simply do not care! I am not your wife, Ellie is. And if you don’t like it, too bad. I don’t love you. I told you I’m in love with Patsy, Ellie’s brother. As a matter of fact I’m going to marry him when the war is over. Are you listening to me? I don’t love you, Hugo!’
Hugo looked as though he had been punched in the face, almost visibly reeling away from Artemis as she told him how she felt, supporting himself on the upright poles of the scaffolding, holding on to them as if should he let go he would simply collapse.
Artemis watched him feeling oddly detached. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘but that’s the way things are. The way things really are. Not how you imagine them to be, Hugo, or even how you like to imagine them to be. I am going back to London, which is where I’m going to stay. And then perhaps, please God, you’ll finally come to your senses.’
Hugo stood listening, his hands holding on to a pole high above him, his chin resting on a horizontal piece of scaffolding. He made no attempt to interrupt and now that Artemis had finished, neither did he attempt to say anything. Until she said goodbye, and finally turned to go.
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