A Perfect Heritage (66 page)

Tomorrow the blog would be published online and possibly, probably, well certainly, Lucy said, someone from school, probably via their big sisters or mothers would see it. ‘And then let’s see what happens, shall we?’

She heard her mother come in; heard her running upstairs. There was a knock at her door.

‘Hi, darling. Can I come in?’

‘Yes, sure. Mum, look at these. It’s amazing.’

‘Isn’t it?’ She looked at the blog and smiled. ‘And you and Jayce look so lovely. How exciting. Nice publicity for Farrell’s too.’

‘Yes, it is. Well, when the launch is a great success, I’ll expect a big raise in my allowance.’

‘
If
it’s a great success.’

‘Mum, don’t be silly. It’s bound to be. With you doing it. That’s what Lucy said anyway.’

‘I’m flattered,’ said Bianca, reaching out and touching Milly’s cheek.

‘Lucy says you’re a complete star.’

‘She does?’

‘Yes. And she says her grandmother really admires you. And she says that doesn’t often happen.’

‘Good heavens,’ said Bianca. ‘Well, she has a funny way of showing it, that’s all I can say.’

‘Well, she is very grand,’ said Milly, ‘and terribly important. Anyway, I felt really proud of you. Oh, listen, there’s Dad just come in. Do you think he’d like to see this?’

‘Of course he will. But possibly not just now, if you don’t mind. We have stuff to discuss, very important.’

Bianca gave Milly a kiss and went downstairs to have what she knew would be one of the most important conversations of her life.

Chapter 55

‘Mrs Bailey?’

‘Yes.’

‘This is Athina Farrell. I wonder if I could have a word with you.’

Terror and guilt in equal measures struck Bianca. Had she heard something about the online campaign? Had she confronted Florence? Had she been on to the VCs?

And how, on a completely different tack, had she known that this was the worst possible moment for her to call, with Patrick having just left the house in a mood of such black rage and misery that Bianca feared for his safety. She had only answered her phone because she thought it might have been him, despite the fact he was most unlikely to have called at all and even less likely that he should do it on the landline. But, she thought, snatching it up, it could be the police or a hospital or—

‘Oh. Well, I don’t know. It’s not the most convenient time.’

‘It’s not very convenient for me either, Mrs Bailey. But I have been very busy and I have also tried several times and found you out of your office.’

‘You could have called my mobile.’

‘Mrs Bailey, I detest mobile phones. Nobody ever concentrates on what anyone is saying, and they intrude on the most important situations.’

Not like you are doing now, thought Bianca, and on my landline. And why should you think I am going to concentrate on anything you say now, with my husband leaving me and my marriage over?

‘Yes, I see. Well, perhaps if it could be quite brief. I’ve got various problems with the children and—’

‘Can’t your husband deal with them? I thought that was what men did these days. Unnatural, in my view, but it seems to be considered quite normal.’

A very large lump seemed to be rising in Bianca’s chest, making speech difficult; she crushed it as best she could.

‘He – he isn’t here just now.’

‘I see. Well, I will keep it brief. I just wanted to say how much I appreciated your speech at Bertie’s leaving party yesterday. It was very – generous.’

Short of Patrick walking back into the room and begging her forgiveness, nothing could have astonished Bianca more. She said nothing.

‘He – well, he was always a disappointment to us. But I think perhaps that was partly our own fault. We didn’t always recognise where his talents lay. You seem to have done rather better.’

‘Yes. Yes, I see. Well, I –
we
– are all very fond of Bertie. And sorry to see him go.’

‘That is why I am calling you. I wondered if you had tried to persuade him to stay?’

‘Well – of course. But he was quite clear. He didn’t want to. For many reasons.’

‘I think he might want to now,’ said Athina. ‘I think you should ask him again.’

‘Lady Farrell, I really don’t think that would be the right thing to do. Bertie has accepted a new job, he’s bought a house, he is – forgive me for mentioning it – getting divorced. For all those reasons I think it better for him to go and for us to respect his decision. Oh dear – excuse me, Lady Farrell . . .’

For the lump had now risen too high for her to deal with it any longer because Patrick’s last words to her had been that he respected her decision even if it did mean their marriage was over . . .

‘Mrs Bailey, are you still there?’

‘Yes, of course.’ She swallowed hard. ‘Sorry.’

‘You sound rather – odd.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry. I – well, perhaps I’d better go.’

‘You’re crying, aren’t you?’ said Athina, her tone more accusatory than sympathetic.

‘No. Not really. I mean, well – I—’

‘Is something wrong?’

Of course not, you silly old witch. I often cry when nothing’s wrong. And then she remembered how she always cried when she and Patrick had just had sex, and they hadn’t had sex for so long she couldn’t remember when, and then, to her utmost astonishment, she heard herself saying, ‘A bit wrong, yes. My husband and I – we – well, we just had rather a bad row.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Athina said, in tones that were not in the least sympathetic. ‘But it must be a regular occurrence, surely?’

‘Not very, no.’

‘How extraordinary. Cornelius and I rowed all the time.’

‘Really?’ Bianca said politely, while thinking the Farrell marriage was hardly an ideal parallel.

‘Oh yes. It’s a good sign, I always think, means at least you care enough to bother. Although it is an appalling waste of time and energy. I used to resent that.’

She was right, of course, Bianca thought: all she felt fit for now was going to bed, when she had all manner of things to do, emails to write (and read, that was the downside of the franchised shops), a final media schedule to study and sign off . . . And then wondered what on earth she was doing discussing her marriage with someone who had gone out of her way for over a year to make her life as near to impossible as made no difference. She’d be telling her Patrick had left next.

‘You’re right about that certainly,’ she said. ‘I do feel exhausted. And I can’t afford that. With the launch and everything.’

‘Well, of course you can’t. You concentrate on your work, that’s my advice. You can’t afford not to, not at the moment. I presume he hasn’t actually walked out?’

Was this possible, this conversation? No. It couldn’t be. She—

‘Well, even if he has,’ said Athina, reading her silence correctly, ‘he’ll be back. He’ll get over it, they always do. It’s hard for them, I do see that—’

‘For who?’

‘Men, taking second billing. With wives more successful than they are. It’s pathetic, of course, but I suppose it’s natural.’

‘Patrick is – very successful,’ said Bianca firmly.

‘Well, he may be in his own world. But you’re the star. I mean no offence of course.’

‘Er – no. Of course not.’

There was clearly little point in discussing this one.

‘But surely,’ Bianca said, fascinated against her will by this insight into the Farrell marriage, ‘but surely you and your husband had – well – equal billing?’

‘We did in a way, but he knew I was the driving force, the person everyone respected, no getting away from it. And I fronted the company, of course. Well, I’m sorry you don’t feel you can approach Bertie about staying on.’

‘I – I really don’t, I’m afraid. And I don’t think he would, for anyone.’

‘I must say you were rather my only hope. I suppose I have to accept it. He is an adult, after all.’

‘He is indeed,’ said Bianca. ‘And now, Lady Farrell, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take your advice and do some work.’

‘Yes, of course. Well, don’t worry about your husband, Mrs Bailey. He’ll be back, one way or another. Goodnight.’

Bianca sat and thought very hard for a while about Patrick’s real reason for leaving. It had been hard to establish. Very hard. He hadn’t exactly accused her of anything, except of putting her work before him. Which had happened many times before. It was baffling.

‘We wouldn’t be even having this conversation,’ he kept saying, ‘if you really loved me. You wouldn’t be talking about when you’d give up that job. You’d just do it.’

‘But Patrick, that’s not true. I wouldn’t. I can’t. I simply can’t. Not now. I have
huge
responsibilities. I’m happy, more than happy, to think about leaving, once the launch is over—’

‘Yes, I’ve heard that one before,’ he said, and his voice was very bitter. ‘There’s always a “when this is over” rider. And then, somehow, always another time, another job, another company.’

‘But you’ve always said you didn’t want a stay-at-home wife. Always. You have, Patrick, don’t deny it.’

‘There’s a difference between your working, however intensively, and what’s been happening recently.’

‘You keep saying that. But what?’

‘I don’t want even to discuss it,’ he said. ‘If you really loved me you’d know what I meant.’

‘But I don’t know what you mean. And I do really love you.’

‘The two things are mutually exclusive,’ he said, ‘unfortunately. Anyway, it’s your decision and I must respect it.’

‘But I haven’t made a decision!’

‘Oh, but Bianca, you have.’ He looked at her, his face almost unbearably sad. ‘And I’m going.’

‘OK. Susie, what I want is an updated update. We’ve got – what? – four weeks to go. I want to know exactly how it’s all coming together.’

Susie studied her surreptitiously as she pulled out her iPad. She knew this wasn’t really necessary; she had been through it with Bianca countless times, and apart from a few very minor details nothing had changed. Of course she was horribly worried and stressed about the launch, who wouldn’t be, but she was also behaving out of character quite a lot of the time, not delegating properly, which was normally one of her greatest talents, fretting over tiny details, calling meetings over absolutely nothing at all. And she looked exhausted every day. Poor Bianca. And – not very happy.

There had been rumours of course, and Jonjo had actually confirmed some of them: Patrick, depressed and non-communicative, even with Jonjo, his oldest friend, had told him that he and Bianca weren’t getting along very well and agreed they needed a bit of a break from each other, especially while she was so busy with the launch. He was shortly going to join Saul in Sydney for a few days; Patrick was checking out a company there and Saul was checking out Sydney property just in case Janey Finlayson did up sticks and settle there, taking Dickon with her. Although, Jonjo had added, she would be a very brave woman if she did.

Anyway, Patrick was spending weekends at the country house and, during the week, was staying at some grotty hotel – of course, grotty by Jonjo’s standards wasn’t most people’s and probably meant it wasn’t five star. Jonjo had said – of course – that Patrick could come and stay at his apartment whenever he liked, but apparently Patrick had looked appalled, and said he really wanted to be on his own.

The whole thing was upsetting Jonjo, who had always regarded Patrick’s and Bianca’s as the perfect marriage and living proof that such a thing existed; Susie, so in love and so happy that she felt as if she was permanently walking a few inches above the ground, and encased moreover in a shiny, impermeable bubble, tried to reassure him.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. They both live in such total stress it’s bound to affect them, especially at the moment. Bianca is just exhausted, and so worried she doesn’t seem to know what day it is half the time, there’s so much riding on this launch. Once it’s over, and they have time for each other again, it’ll all be sorted out. Try not to worry.’

‘No,’ said Jonjo, ‘it’s more than that, I know it is. I’m going to take him out to dinner, before he goes off to Sydney, try and get him to talk.’

‘But Jonjo – maybe he doesn’t want to talk.’

‘Well, I have to try. I owe him a lot. You, for one thing. Not just meeting you, but he told me to persevere, finding out what had gone wrong with you.’

‘Really? Well, you didn’t exactly do what he said,’ said Susie, kissing him. ‘For two months you never came near me.’

‘I tried that first night, you know, when I saw you and Henk? How was I meant to carry on after that? Anyway, the point is that Patrick really cared about me and the state I was in. If you don’t mind I’ll try and nobble him early next week.’

‘Of course I don’t mind. Anyway, I’m going to be pretty stressed and over-occupied myself. God, I hope it doesn’t affect us in the same way.’

‘It won’t,’ said Jonjo. ‘Nothing could. I love you, Susie Harding. I really really do. I want you to marry me, I want you to have my babies, I—’

‘And I want to marry you and have your babies,’ said Susie automatically. And then she stopped abruptly and stared at him and said, ‘What did you say?’

‘I said I loved you and I wanted you to marry me and have my babies.’

‘Oh my God!’ said Susie. ‘But – but – Jonjo, for heaven’s sake, oh my God, why didn’t you say so?’

‘I just did, you lunatic.’

‘I know, but properly down on one knee!’

‘Yeah, yeah, and up the top of the Empire State or the Shard, or on a remote Caribbean island with a hundred violins going on in the background. I don’t go for all that stuff. Tell it like it is, that’s my motto. At the right moment. Which just came.’

‘How could you think that was the right moment? Early in the morning, when we’re supposed to be going to the gym?’

‘Well, it obviously was. You accepted me, didn’t you?’

‘I did?’

‘Well – yes. So we’re all good. Now we can go to the gym.’

‘Jonjo Bartlett,’ said Susie, her eyes wide with wonder, ‘I just totally can’t believe that you just asked me to marry you.’

‘Well, I did. And of course you can believe it because you just said – oh, this is getting too complicated. Come here and give me a kiss. And maybe a bit more. And . . .’

Later, she said from within an even shinier, more impermeable bubble, ‘So – do you have the other ingredient necessary to become engaged? Other than two people who agree they want to be?’

‘Er – what would that be?’

‘The ring, of course. Has to be a ring.’

‘Well, I have, as a matter of fact. I’ve had it a while now.’

‘What! Where?’

‘In my sock drawer.’

‘Jonjo, that’s ridiculous!’

‘No, it isn’t. It’s safe in there; it doesn’t let the rain in, you weren’t going to find it—’

‘I might have done.’

‘Susie, when did you ever go into my sock drawer? You have been a grave disappointment in one way, I have to tell you. I thought girls got blokes’ socks and shirts and underpants and stuff all washed and ironed and sorted. All you do is unsort my underpants.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, but I’m a professional woman, I don’t have time for laundry work. Can I see the ring?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, Jonjo. Please!’

‘Why does it matter?’

‘It just does.’

‘You’re just like all the others, aren’t you? You’ll be saying you hope it’s a great big rock of a diamond in a minute.’

‘No I won’t.’

‘Well, it is.’

‘Oh what? Please,
please
Jonjo, let me see it.
Please 
. . .’

‘Not till you sort out my sock drawer. Now where are you going?’