So that was all right. “Where does she live?”
“A dear little house in Cadgwith Mews. But I must say, it’s not as pretty as this.”
“Would you…would you like a cup of tea?”
“No, don’t bother. A cold drink would do.”
“I’ve got a can of Coke in the fridge.”
“Perfect.”
“I…I’ll just get it”
She left Virginia and went down to the kitchen. She opened the fridge and took out the can of Coke. Virginia was here and it was necessary to be cool and objective. Being cool and objective was not Alexa’s strong point. Downstairs, evidences of Noel were scarce. His Barbour jacket and a tweed cap hung in the downstairs loo. A Financial Times lay in the drawing room. That was all. But upstairs was different. His personal belongings were everywhere, and the bed, very obviously, made up for the occupancy of two people. There could be no question of trying to hide it all away. If Virginia went upstairs…
She found herself overwhelmed with indecision. On the one hand, perhaps this was the best way to do it. She hadn’t planned anything but it had happened; and Virginia was here. As well, Virginia was young and not even, strictly speaking, family. She would hopefully understand, and perhaps even approve. She, after all, had had strings of men in her life before she married Fa. Virginia could be Alexa’s advocate, the best person of all to break the news gently that the shy and puddingy Alexa had not only found a man of her own at last but had taken him into her heart and her home, and was openly living with him.
On the other hand, if she did this, then the secret was out and Alexa would be expected to share Noel. Speak about him and allow them all to meet him. She imagined her father coming to London, ringing up. “I’ll take you both to Claridge’s for dinner.” The prospect caused her knees to shake, but in the end, she knew that she would be able to cope with such a situation. The unanswered question was how Noel would react. Would he, perhaps, feel that he was being pressurised in some way? Which would be disastrous because, after three months of living with him and learning all the capricious twists of another person’s character, Alexa knew that this was the one thing in life that Noel could not stand.
At a loss, totally out of her depth, she made a huge effort to be rational. There is nothing you can do about it, she told herself in Edie’s voice. You’ll just need to take things the way they come. Thinking of Edie made her feel a bit stronger. She closed the door of the fridge found a glass, and went back upstairs.
“Sorry I’ve been so long.” Virginia was smoking. “I thought you’d given up cigarettes.”
“I did but I’ve started again. Don’t tell your father.”
Alexa opened the Coke and poured it, and handed Virginia the glass.
“Oh, marvellous. Delicious. I thought I was going to die of thirst. Why are all the shops so hot? Why are there so many people everywhere?”
Alexa curled up in the corner of the sofa.
“Visitors. It took me hours to get back from Chiswick. And you’ve got on the wrong sort of shoes for shopping. You should be wearing trainers.”
“I know. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Dressing up to come to London. Habit, I suppose.”
“What have you been buying?”
“Clothes. Basically something for the Steyntons’ party. I see you’ve got your invitation.”
“I haven’t answered it yet.”
“You’re coming, of course.”
“I…I don’t know…I’m pretty busy round then.”
“But of course you must come. We’re counting on you…”
Alexa diverted her. “What sort of a dress did you get?”
“It’s dreamy. Sort of voile, white, in layers, with black spots everywhere. Tiny shoestring straps. I’ll have to try to step up my suntan.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Caroline Charles. I’ll show it to you before I go. But, Alexa, do try to come. It’s September, so everybody will be there and it’ll be a great do.”
“I’ll see. How’s Fa?”
“He’s fine.” Virginia turned away to stub out her cigarette in the ashtray. Alexa waited for her to enlarge on this flat statement, but she didn’t say any more.
“And Henry?”
“Henry’s great too.”
“Are they both at home?”
“No. Edmund’s spending this week in the flat in Edinburgh, and Henry’s taken his sleeping-bag and gone to stay at Pennyburn with Vi. I took him to Devon for his summer holidays. We had three weeks, and it was a success. I took him riding for the first time in his life, and he liked all the farm animals and going fishing with my father.” Another pause, not entirely comfortable, or was that Alexa’s imagination? Then Virginia went on, “I really wanted to take him out to the States. I suddenly got this yen for Leesport and Long Island. But Gramps and Grandma had taken themselves off for a long cruise, so there wasn’t much point our going.”
“No, I suppose not.” A car started up and sped away down the street. “So what’s happening at home?”
“Oh, not a lot. The usual. We had the church sale in July, to try to raise money for the electrics. It was more work than you can possibly imagine, and we ended up with around four hundred pounds. I thought it was scarcely worth the effort, but Archie and the rector seemed quite satisfied. Henry won a bottle of rhubarb wine in the raffle. He’s going to give it to Vi for her birthday.”
“Lucky Vi. How is she? And how’s Edie?”
“Oh, Edie. That’s a real problem. Haven’t you heard?”
It sounded disastrous. “Heard what?”
“She’s got this dreadful cousin come to stay with her. She arrived last week and Edie’s already looking demented.”
The idea of Edie looking demented was enough to fill Alexa’s heart with chill. “What dreadful cousin?”
Virginia told her, in some detail, the saga of Lottie Carstairs. Alexa was horrified. “I remember the Carstairs. They were very old, and they lived in a croft up the hill from Tullochard. And sometimes on Sundays they used to come to Strathcroy to have their dinner with Edie.”
“That’s right.”
“They used to drive a tiny, rattly car. The two little old people sitting in the front and the great gawky daughter in the back.”
“Well, the two little old people are now dead and the gawky daughter has gone witless. Which is putting it mildly.”
Alexa was indignant. “But why should Edie have to look after her? Edie’s got enough to do without such a responsibility.”
“That’s what we all told her, but she wouldn’t listen. She says there’s nowhere else for the poor soul to go. Anyway, last week she arrived in an ambulance and she’s been with Edie ever since.”
“But not for ever? She’ll surely go back to her own house?”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Have you seen her?”
“Have I? She wanders round the village and talks to everybody. And not just the village. I took the dogs up to the dam the other day, and I was just sitting there on the bank when, all of a sudden, I had this queer feeling and I turned round, and there was Lottie sneaking up behind me.”
“How spooky.”
“Spooky’s the word. Edie can’t keep track of her. And that’s not the worst of it. She goes out at night too, and drifts around the place. I suppose she’s quite harmless, but the thought of her peering through windows is enough to put the fear of God into anybody.”
“What does she look like?”
“She doesn’t look mad. Just a bit strange. With very pale skin and eyes like boot buttons. And she’s always smiling, which makes her spookier than ever. Ingratiating. I think that’s the word. Edmund and Archie Balmerino say she was always like that. She worked at Croy one year as a housemaid. I don’t think Lady Balmerino could find anybody else. Vi said it was the year Archie and Isobel were married. Archie swears every time you opened the door, Lottie was always lurking behind it. And then she smashed so much china that Lady Ba
lmerino sacked her. So all in all, as you can gather, it’s something of a problem.”
The telephone rang.
“Oh, bother.” Alexa, engrossed in the drama of Strathcroy, resented the interruption. Reluctantly she got to her feet and went to her desk to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Alexa Aird?”
“Speaking.”
“You won’t remember me — Moira Bradford — but I was a guest at the Thomsons’ dinner party last week…and I wondered…”
Business. Alexa sat down, reached for her notepad, her biro, her engagement diary.
“…not until October, but thought it better to fix things right away…”
Four courses, for twelve people. Perhaps, Mrs Bradford suggested delicately, Alexa could give her some idea of cost?
Alexa listened, answered questions, made notes. Behind her, she was aware that Virginia had got out of her chair and was making for the door. She looked up. Virginia made gestures, mouthed “Just going to the john…” and before Alexa had the opportunity to tell her to use the cloakroom and not go upstairs, was gone.
“…of course, my husband will see to the wine…”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I said my husband will see to the wine.”
“…oh, yes, of course…look, shall I get back to you?”
“But can’t we decide everything now? I’d rather do it that way. And another thing is, serving. Do you have a colleague, or do you do the serving yourself?”
Virginia had gone upstairs. She would see everything, draw the obvious conclusions, guess the truth. In a strange way, Alexa felt a sort of resigned relief. There wasn’t much point in feeling anything else because it was too late to do anything about it.
She took a deep breath. She said, in her most capable voice, “No. I don’t have a colleague. But you don’t have to worry, because I can manage it all very easily on my own.”
Virginia, in stockinged feet, climbed the staircase, reflecting, as she always did, that this was one of the prettiest of small London houses. So fresh, with its wallpaper and shining white paint. And so comfortable, with thick carpets and extravagantly generous curtains. On the landing, the doors to the bedroom and the bathroom both stood open. She went into the bathroom and saw that Alexa had new curtains here, a quilted chintz patterned with leaves and birds. Admiring them, she looked around for other signs of refurbishment.
There were none, but other unexpected objects caught her eye and the implication of these drove all other thoughts from her head. Two toothbrushes in the tooth-mug. Shaving-tackle on the glass shelf, a wooden bowl of soap and a shaving-brush. A bottle of aftershave — Antaeus by Chanel — the same that Edmund used. By the side of the bath was a huge Turkish sponge, and hanging from the tap a ball of soap on a cord. From hooks behind the door hung two towelling robes, one large, blue-and-white-striped, the other smaller and white.
By now she had totally forgotten her reason for coming upstairs. She went out of the bathroom, back on to the landing. Downstairs was silent. The telephone call apparently was finished, and Alexa’s voice stilled. She looked at the bedroom door, and then put out her hand, pushed it open and went in. Saw the bed, piled with double pillows; Alexa’s nightgown neatly folded on one set, a man’s sky-blue pyjamas on the other. On the bedside table a pigskin travelling clock softly ticked. That clock did not belong to Alexa. Her eyes moved around the room. Silver brushes on the dressing-table, silk ties slung on the mirror. A row of masculine shoes. A wardrobe door, perhaps faulty, hung open. She saw rows of suits on hangers, and on the chest of drawers a pile of immaculately ironed shirts.
A step on the stair behind her. She turned. Alexa stood there, in her crumpled cotton clothes, looking much as she had always looked. Yet different. “Have you lost weight?” Virginia had asked, but she knew now no diet was responsible for that indefinable radiance about Alexa that she had noticed the moment she saw her.
Their eyes met, and Alexa’s were steady. She did not look away. There was no guilt there, no shame, and Virginia was glad for her. Alexa was twenty-one. It had taken long enough, but now it seemed that, at last, she had grown up.
Standing there, she remembered Alexa as a child, as she had first known her, so shy, so unsure, so eager to please. Then, the newly married Virginia had trod with the greatest of care, chosen her words, always painfully aware of the pitfalls of impetuously saying or doing the wrong thing.
It was the same now.
In the end it was Alexa who spoke first. She said, “I was going to tell you to use the downstairs loo.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s pretty obvious.”
“Do you mind me knowing?”
“No. You would have found out some time.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“If you like.”
Virginia came out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Alexa said, “Let's go back downstairs and I’ll tell you there.”
“I haven’t been to the john yet.” And all at once they were both laughing.
“He’s called Noel Keeling. I met him in the street. He’d come to dinner with some people called Pennington — they live a couple of doors down — but he’d got the wrong night, so he was at a loose end.”
“Was that the first time you’d ever seen him?”
“Oh, no, we’d met before that, but not very memorably. At some cocktail party, and then I did a directors’ lunch for his firm.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s in advertising. Wenborn & Weinburg.”
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-four.” Alexa’s face became dreamy, the very picture of a girl able to talk at last about the man she loves. “He’s…oh, I can’t describe him. I was never any good at describing people.”
A pause fell. Virginia waited. And then, in an effort to get Alexa back to the point of the story, said, “So, he’d come to dine in Ovington Street on the wrong night.”
“Yes. And he was tired out. You could see how tired he was. He’d just flown in from New York and he hadn’t had any sleep, and he looked so down in the mouth, I asked him in. And we had a drink, and then something to eat. Chops. And then he went to sleep on the sofa.”
“You can’t have been very entertaining.”
“Oh, Virginia, I told you. He was tired.”
“Sorry. Go on.”
“And then the next evening was the night he was meant to have dinner with the Penningtons, so he dropped in for a moment first, and brought me a great bunch of roses. A sort of thank-you. And then a couple of nights later, we went out for dinner. And…well, it sort of snowballed from there.”
Virginia wondered if “snowballed” was, under the circumstances, an appropriate word. But she said, “I see.”
“And then a weekend came along and we drove out into the country for a day. And it was very warm and blue-skyed, and we took Larry and walked for miles over the Downs, and we had dinner on the way back to London, and then we went to his flat for coffee. And then…well…it was dreadfully late…and…”
“You spent the night with him.”
“Yes.”
Virginia reached for another cigarette and lit it. Snapping out her lighter, she said, “And the following morning, you had no regrets?”
“No. No regrets.”
“Was it…the first time? For you?”
“Yes. But you didn’t have to ask that, did you?”
“Oh, honey, I know you very well.”
“It made everything a bit embarrassing to begin with. Because I couldn’t just let him find out. I couldn’t pretend. It would have been like pretending you can swim frightfully well, and then jumping into the deep end and drowning. I didn’t want to drown. So I told him. I was sure he would think I was dreadfully schoolgirlish or prissy. But do you know what he said? He said it was like being given a really splendid and unexpected present. And the next morning he woke me
up by opening a bottle of champagne with a tremendous pop and a flying cork. And we sat in bed and drank it together. And after that…”
She paused, having apparently run out of both breath and words.
“More snowballing…?”
“Well, you know. We were always together, I mean when we weren’t working. And after a bit, it seemed ludicrous, at the end of the evening, driving off in different directions or having to borrow the other person’s toothbrush. So we talked about it. He’s got a very nice flat in Pembroke Gardens and I would happily have gone there, but I couldn’t leave this house empty when it’s so full of Granny Cheriton’s precious things. And for the same reason I didn’t feel very keen to let it. It was a bit of a dilemma but then Noel met up with these friends who’d just got married and wanted a place to rent until they’d found somewhere of their own. So he let them have his flat and moved in with me.”
“How long has he been here?”
“About two months.”
“And you never let on.”
“It wasn’t that I was ashamed or secretive. It was just that it was all so incredibly marvellous, I wanted to keep it to ourselves. Somehow that was part of the magic.”
“Does he have family?”
“His parents are both dead but he’s got two sisters. One’s married and lives somewhere in Gloucestershire. The other’s in London.”
“Have you met her?”
“No, and I don’t really want to. She’s much older than Noel and she sounds rather frightening. She’s Editor-in-Chief of Venus, and terribly high-powered.”
“So when I get home, do you want me to say anything?”
“It’s up to you.”
Virginia thought about it. “It would surely be better to tell Edmund before he hears about it from some other person. He’s in London a lot and you know how people talk. Especially men.”
“That’s what Noel says. Would you mind telling Fa? And Vi? Would it be very difficult to tell them?”
“Not difficult at all. Vi’s amazing. She takes everything in her stride. And as for your father, at the moment I don’t really care what I have to say to him.”
Alexa frowned. “What do you mean?”
September Page 15
