‘Charles hasn’t got it?’
‘No, no.’
‘Any news?’
‘Well, yes. Apparently Eliza’s going to marry Jeremy Northcott.’
‘Goodness. From everything I’ve heard about him, that should solve all their problems. Stop them worrying you about it. So unfair.’
She felt very – odd. Sort of – well, very sexy. Almost uncomfortably so. She kept fidgeting about in her seat. He noticed.
‘You OK?’
‘Oh – yes I’m fine. You?’
‘Very OK.’
It was odd, being with him when he was relaxed. And when she was relaxed. So often they were fighting. She said so.
‘Yeah, I suppose we are. Why do you think that is?’
‘Oh – can’t imagine. Because you’re such a stroppy bugger, maybe?’
‘I am not stroppy.’
‘Matt, you are very stroppy.’
There was a silence; he picked up his glass and scowled into it.
‘And I suppose you’re not?’
‘I don’t think I’m stroppy.’
‘Yes you are.’
‘OK,’ she said agreeably and smiled at him. He stared at her and then quite suddenly smiled back.
‘Yes, all right. I am too.’
‘Do I make you worse, do you think?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘Well, obviously, because you’re stroppy. In fact I’m the sweetest, mildest bloke when you’re not there.’
‘Oh, really? And what would your girlfriend have to say about that, I wonder?’
‘I have no idea,’ he said, and took another gulp of wine.
A stab of something. Not jealousy, obviously. Just – interest.
‘She’s very pretty, your girlfriend.’
‘Yes, she is.’ He sounded rather complacent.
‘And – is she clever? Nice?’
‘I don’t think I want to talk about her.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because – because it’s hardly the way to improve the evening.’
‘There you go, stropping away. Now there’s a new verb, to strop. So, does she live with you?’
‘Good God, no.’ He looked horrified. Eliza giggled.
‘But you – well, you?’ This wasn’t very ladylike of her, but she really wanted to know.
‘I sleep with her,’ he said, and his eyes on hers were very steady. ‘If that’s what you’re asking.’
‘Of – of course not.’
‘I think it was, but never mind.’ He looked round the restaurant, then, as if he had made some kind of decision, back at her. ‘Now, while we’re getting down to basics, how about you? Do you live with him?’
There was no need to establish who ‘he’ was.
‘Absolutely not.’
‘But you sleep with him?’
‘That’s not a very gentlemanly question.’
‘I’m not a gentleman. That’s one thing we have established. Anyway, asking me the same question wasn’t very ladylike.’
‘I didn’t actually ask it.’
‘Not in so many words perhaps. So—’
‘Yes,’ she said almost reluctantly, ‘I do – sleep with him.’
‘OK. That’s got that out the way. Any more questions?’
‘No. No, don’t think so.’
‘Good. Did you ever play truth, dare, promise?’
‘Course. When I was little. Not since I grew up. Why?’
‘Oh – my sister and I used to play it a lot as well. I was just thinking we were being quite truthful with each other. That’s always interesting. More wine?’
‘Please. Oh, this is so – so nice.’
‘Good. It’s a burgundy.’
‘I don’t mean the wine. I meant sitting here, just chatting to you, getting to know you properly. All these years since we first met—’
‘Do you remember that?’
‘Of course,’ she said, surprised. ‘Of course I do. It was at Waterloo station, and you and Charles were home on leave and I thought how good-looking you were.’
‘Really?’ He looked so astonished, she laughed.
‘Of course. Ask Charles if you don’t believe me, I told him.’
‘Blimey. Well. I thought you were pretty good-looking too.’
‘There you are then. It’s obviously a match made in heaven. Pity we’ve wasted all this time squabbling.’
‘Yes. Um – let’s do a bit more truth-telling. What’s the most important thing in the world to you, Eliza?’
‘My work.’ It shot out, without even a pause for consideration. ‘You?’
‘Sort of the same. Being a success. Making a ton of money. So – work.’
‘But do you enjoy what you do so much you’d do it even if it didn’t make you rich?’
‘Oh, no,’ he said with the same lack of consideration. ‘I’d find something else that did.’
‘Yes, I see. For me it’s not the money.’
‘Well, it’s different for girls. Anyway, they can just marry rich blokes.’
‘That is the most terrible thing to say.’
‘Well, it’s true.’
‘OK, so you could marry a rich girl.’
‘And do you think that would give me any satisfaction? Even supposing I could. Which I couldn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Eliza, don’t be bloody stupid. What rich girl would marry me?’
She looked at him, sitting there, so cool and sexy and clever and stroppy and she leaned forward across the table and kissed him, very gently, on the mouth.
‘Lots,’ she said. ‘I should think.’
‘Sarah dear, it’s Anna.’
‘Oh – hello, Anna.’
‘I just rang to see how Adrian was.’
‘He’s doing pretty well, I think. Being so brave.’
‘And you’re not feeling too down? Worried about the house?’
‘No, not really. Actually I’m feeling rather happy this evening.’
‘Glad to hear it. Why?’
‘Well – I shouldn’t really tell you.’
‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous. Of course you should and you’re going to. I can hear it in your voice.’
‘Well – all right. But you’re not to tell anyone. Jeremy just came down to see Adrian. A couple of hours ago.’
‘What, to ask if he can marry Eliza?’
‘Yes.’
‘About time too. You think she will?’
‘Of course she will. I mean, they’re so perfectly suited. So – so happy together. It’s just marvellous.’
There was a silence, then Anna Marchant said, ‘No wonder you’re not worried about the house any more.’
‘Anna, that’s a terrible thing to say.’
‘It may be terrible, Sarah, but it’s also true. Isn’t it? Oh, don’t get me wrong, marriages – our sort of marriages – always have been based on property, and I’m delighted for you. I just worry a little about Eliza going into something like that. She’s so ambitious, so clever, and such – such a free spirit.’
‘Anna, you’re talking as if she’s going to be sold into domestic servitude, when she’s going to have the most marvellous life.’
‘Possibly. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like Jeremy very much, and he was the sweetest child. He’s just not very – exciting.’
‘Anna, you are in danger of making me quite cross,’ said Sarah. ‘Eliza is obviously very much in love with him, and I’m pretty sure they’re – well—’
‘Sleeping together? Well, I should hope so, after all this time, something wrong if they’re not. Oh, Sarah, don’t mind me. It is wonderful news, and marvellous for you. It’s just that I adore my goddaughter and I want her to be happy. Tell her to give me a ring when she has a moment. Night, darling.’
‘Goodnight,’ said Sarah and slammed the phone down.
‘So – suppose you got married. Would work still be so important?’
‘Better not marry me, then.’
‘Is that a proposal?’
‘Certainly not.’
‘So your wife’s going to be a domestic slave, is she? Yes, I forgot, you said that the other day.’
‘Well, she’s certainly going to be at home looking after me. That’s for sure.’
‘How boring for her.’
‘Why? Am I so boring?’
‘No, you’re not, not at all, but presumably you’re hardly ever there. You’re out working till all hours.’
‘All the more reason to have her home, waiting for me with a good hot meal.’
‘Matt Shaw! I can’t believe I’m hearing this.’
‘Well, you are. I’m not ashamed of it. I think it’s the natural order of things.’
‘Did your mum stay at home?’
‘Most of the time, yeah. She did a bit of cleaning, that sort of thing. Fitted round my dad.’
‘And did your dad help in the house?’
‘Course not. He paid for it, didn’t he? And all the food and that. Why should he wash up as well? Not fair, far as I can see.’
‘I – don’t know.’ She really couldn’t find an answer.
‘Jeremy – does he wash up and that?’
‘Well, if we’re eating at home, yes he does. Specially if I’ve cooked. But he likes cooking too.’
‘Blimey. Funny bloke. I suppose it’s different for him. Sort of a novelty. I mean, presumably staff and that do it usually. What’s he do? Works in advertising, that right? And – does he – does he take his work seriously?’
‘Goodness, yes. It’s one of the things I really like about him. He doesn’t actually have to work—’
‘Why not?’
‘Well – well, because he just doesn’t.’
‘Got private money, has he?’
His eyes were very watchful on hers.
‘Mmm. What does Georgina do?’
‘She works in a shop. A clothes shop in the King’s Road, called Silk, Satin, Cotton, Rags.’
‘Oh. I know it well. Lovely things. I must go and introduce myself, we didn’t really talk at the wedding, tell her we had dinner.’
‘I’d really rather you didn’t,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t like it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re like you are.’
‘Which is?’
‘So bloody sexy,’ he said, and then, ‘Ignore that. It’s the wine talking.’
‘Is it?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘not really.’ And he took her hand across the table and pulled it towards him and raised it to his mouth. Turned it over. Kissed the palm. His tongue moving over it. She stared at him, feeling it, feeling it everywhere, and with a thud of shock, in her head and wherever or whatever her heart was, and deep, deep inside her, as if the tongue was in her, probing at her, sweetly uncomfortable. She shut her eyes, opened them again, met his.
‘So bloody sexy,’ he said.
‘Apparently Eliza is engaged to that chap at the wedding, Jeremy Northcott,’ said Carol Judd.
‘Really?’ her husband replied. ‘Well that should stop them all bleating about not having any money. I can’t stand the way those people carry on as if they were one step from the workhouse.’
‘I know,’ said Carol, ‘and upsetting Juliet, it’s too bad of them, when they’re obviously completely loaded.’
‘I really loved that house of yours,’ Matt said. He had asked for the bill; they were on coffee.
‘I’m so pleased. It’s so special to me. To all of us.’
‘Specially the orangery. That was gorgeous.’
‘Well, you must come again. See the inside. Come this weekend – oh, no, I’m going away, but – next. I’d love to show it to you properly. You can bring Georgina if you like.’
‘No, don’t think so. Not a good idea. What about Jeremy, will he be there?’
‘No,’ said Eliza and she could hear her own voice, very cool, very firm. ‘He won’t.’
‘OK. It’s a date.’
‘I’d like to see your flat too, Matt. The one in Rotherhithe. It sounds so cool.’
‘OK. You can. It’s open to the public.’
‘Right. So there’s the promise. We’ve done truth. Only thing we haven’t done,’ she said, smiling into his eyes, ‘is the dare.’
‘Piers, do concentrate. I’ve got a bit of news.’
‘Yes, all right, sorry. Trying to finish the crossword. What was it?’
‘I’ve just been talking to Sarah. And apparently, Jeremy Northcott has just asked Adrian if he can marry Eliza?’
‘Really? Well done her. Can you think of a five-letter word ending in D that bakers and others do daily?’
‘Grind, dear. Is that all you have to say?’
‘Well, there isn’t a lot more, is there. She has done well. He’s one of the richest young men in England. Better than her mother managed.’
‘Piers, really!’
‘Well, he’s a nice enough chap, Adrian, but absolutely useless. No money, no drive, got through what was left of Sarah’s inheritance. I should think they’re both down on their bended knees in gratitude.’
‘Yes,’ said Anna soberly, ‘that’s worrying me as well.’
‘Well, Matt, it’s been so lovely, thank you.’
Eliza stood up, and smiled at Matt, bent to kiss him again, on the cheek this time, and then rather unsteadily walked to the door.
As they reached the street, she turned to him, suddenly thinking she would offer him a lift, for her car was only a few streets away, in the silent reaches of Covent Garden, and saw he was standing stock still, and just staring at her, clearly wanting to say something.
‘I’ve got a dare for you, Eliza,’ he said, finally speaking rather slowly and sounding a bit breathless. ‘Come back to my place. For a nightcap. You said you’d like to see it.’
And she said, ‘What, now?’ and he said, ‘Yes Eliza, now.’ And there was a long silence and then her eyes met his, very steadily and then she smiled at him, and tossed back her mane of hair, and said, ‘Dare accepted. OK, Matt. You’re on.’
That weekend, Jeremy Northcott went down on one knee in a muddy field in Norfolk, produced a rock of a diamond from his pocket and asked Eliza Fullerton-Clark to marry him.
Part Two
The Marriage
1965
God, she felt terrible. She really felt she might throw up, then and there. All over the registrar’s table.
The registrar’s table. In Chelsea Town Hall. Not the altar in Wellesley village church.
She looked down; saw her shoes. Her white pumps, with those wonderful red bows on them, that echoed the red bows on her dress. Her short lace dress, not a long, full-skirted satin dress. A very short white lace dress with red bows all down the front.
The ceremony continued; they made their vows, were declared man and wife, exchanged a kiss.
She felt better now, turned, smiled into the room. At their friends. Not a church-full, just a couple of rows; and only a handful of family, mostly his.
They signed the register, stood up, walked out of the room. Out of the room, not down the aisle, not into the church porch but the register-office lobby. And then outside, onto the steps, not into a laughing, loving crowd but a couple of half-interested passers-by.
What had happened to her; what would happen to her? And how could she possibly feel so shockingly, wonderfully happy?
Chapter 21
Autumn/Winter 1964
‘Mummy, I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘Yes, darling, we know. And it’s so lovely—’
‘No, Mummy, it’s not so lovely. It’s not what you think. Jeremy’s asked me to marry him—’
‘Yes, darling, we know. He asked Daddy, all very correctly …’
‘Yes, he told me. But – well, I’m not going to. Marry him. I can’t. I really can’t. Because I’m not – not in love with him. I’m in love with
someone else.’
Who she wasn’t – necessarily – going to marry. He certainly hadn’t asked her. And she didn’t like his views on marriage. She didn’t like his views on lots of things. But she did, totally and absolutely and violently, love him. It was extraordinary. Really extraordinary.
It was partly the sex, of course. The sex was amazing. Totally astonishing. She would never have dreamed that a different body could make so much difference. The difference between smiling, easy pleasure and shrieking, frantic delight; between wanting and needing, desperately, desperately needing, so much that she was unable to think about anything else until she had it. Had him. Between comfort and torture; between warmth and tenderness and shocking, sweating near-distress; between saying ‘that was lovely’ and speechless, tearful stillness.
‘Oh, my God,’ she had said, when, after the first time, she finally eased, flung herself back from him, gazing at him, fighting for breath, her body still pulsing in a sort of aftershock, ‘Oh, my God, Matt.’
‘Oh, my God what?’
‘Just – oh, my God.’
‘I knew it,’ he said, and sounded smug suddenly, ‘I knew you hadn’t. Not properly.’
‘Hadn’t what?’
‘Hadn’t come.’
‘Of course I had.’
‘Not properly. Not how you deserved.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, smiling. ‘You can’t deserve sex.’
‘OK. How you needed. You’re so bloody sexy, Eliza, and you were just missing the point. I could tell, you know. You were like – like some sort of half-virgin.’
‘That’s even sillier. You can’t be a half-virgin; it’s like being a little bit pregnant.’
‘Course you can. You were. Half-cooked – oh shit, I’m no good with words.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘you’re not.’
‘Well,’ he said, after a pause, ‘how about this? I love you.’
It was the first time he’d said it.
‘Mr Shaw seems very cheerful at the moment.’
‘He does, doesn’t he?’
‘I mean, I just told him Roderick Brownlow didn’t want to work with us on the development and he just said, “OK, fine.”’
‘I know. I heard him.’
‘Well, I’m sure it won’t last. We’d better make the most of it.’
The Decision Page 26
