Almost a Crime (42 page)

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Authors: Penny Vincenzi

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BOOK: Almost a Crime
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talk about it, but you can guess the reason of course.

Anyway, she’ll call you back. Is that all right?’

Octavia sounded rather odd, he thought, as she said yes,

it would be all right, but she really did want to speak to

Louise, it was something fairly urgent.

 

Alec’s voice over the phone was very cold, very clipped.

‘I’m sorry, Marianne, I am just not prepared to agree to this

nonsense.’

‘And I think we should at least consider it.’

‘It will disrupt her education, bring her into contact with

unsavoury people—’

‘How do you know that? I have friends in the fashion

industry, perfectly responsible people.’

‘Marianne, please! There is a vast difference between

people your age who are fashion editors at Vogue, and the

kind of dissolute crowd who hang around photographers’

studios.’

‘Look, Alec, perhaps we should accept that neither of us

knows what we’re talking about. In this particular instance.

I do assure you I am keeping a very open mind on the

subject.’

‘And I do assure you mine is closed. Now I have to go.

Goodbye.’

Marianne put the phone down. She was shaking and near

to tears. It was twelve years now since she had left Alec, and

very occasionally she had wondered quite why she had

found him so intolerable as a husband. Incidents such as this

reminded her with a force that was very hard to bear.

Anyway, it had done one thing; it had made her want to

keep an open mind on the whole thing herself. She simply

would not be ordered what to do by Alec. Even on the

subject of their children.

 

‘Boot, hallo, it’s me. Sorry I couldn’t talk to you earlier.’

‘That’s all right,’ said Octavia. ‘How are you today?’

‘I’m fine. You sound odd. What’s the matter?’

‘I feel rather odd, as you put it. Stupid, more like it.

Louise, what are you playing at?’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Don’t you? Don’t you really? Well, try this. I’m talking

to your husband, about Dickon, about how he was worried

about everyone dying and what if you had another baby,

would that one die, and your husband says oh, don’t worry

about that, there won’t be any more babies, and I’m about

to say well, what about the one your wife is having then,

and he stops me just in time, just in time, I might say, and tells me he’s had a vasectomy. Thanks a lot, Louise, for letting me blab away to you about all my problems, and

keeping it all to yourself about your own little affair. And

that you’re having a baby by someone else, God knows

who. Funny way to run a friendship.’

There was a much longer silence, then Louise said, ‘Oh,

Boot. Oh, dear. I’m so so sorry. My only defence is that

with Mummy dying—’

‘Your mother’s dying, so you forgot to mention that you

just happen to be having an adulterous liaison and that

you’re also having your lover’s baby? Sorry, Louise, but it

doesn’t quite wash. Whose is it, who are you pregnant by?’

‘I’m not pregnant.’ The voice was very sad, very shaky

suddenly.

‘What?’

‘I’m not. It was all — all in my mind. I honestly think,

Octavia, I’ve been a little bit mad this past few weeks.’

‘But, Louise, you said — your father said—’

‘I know. I thought I was, I honestly thought I was. I’ve

had all the symptoms, missed two periods, been so sick, sore

boobs, everything. But I’m not. I had a test. Negative. I feel

pretty rough about it actually.’ Her voice shook.

Octavia felt totally disconcerted. ‘But if Sandy’s had a

vasectomy, how could you even have thought you were? I

don’t understand.’

‘Those things don’t always work. I’ve heard of a couple

of people who’ve got pregnant afterwards. I mean, it’s one

in a million stuff, but — well, I obviously want a baby really,

because I managed to hope myself into Sandy still being

fertile. I regret making him have the vasectomy now. I

really do. But at the time I thought — well, you know what

I thought.’

‘Yes,’ said Octavia, ‘yes, I do. I’m sorry, Louise. I just felt

so upset. That you hadn’t confided in me. And that I nearly

dropped you in it.’

‘I would have felt the same. Of course I would.’

‘And I’m sad you’re still so upset about — about Juliet as

well. I didn’t realise you’d changed your mind about it.

About having another baby.’

“Fraid so. And short of taking a lover, there’s nothing I

can do about it now, is there? Silly me.’

‘Can’t they be reversed? Vasectomies? I read about it

only the other day. Yes, it was in the Mail. I’ll see if I can

find it.’

‘Could you, Boot? Goodness. What a marvellous

thought!’

“Well, don’t get too excited. Oh, you poor old thing.

What a filthy time you’ve had. Poor Louise.’

‘We’ve both been through the mill a bit, haven’t we?

How’s things with you?’

‘Bad,’ said Octavia briefly. ‘I’ve told Tom I want a

divorce. I think he’s hoping still I’ll come round. Forgive

him. All that crap.’

‘No chance?’

‘No chance.’

‘Your dad still doesn’t know?’

‘No, thank God.’

‘And Tom still hasn’t told you who it is?’

‘No. He’s avoiding talking about the whole thing. I think

it’s partly because — oh, I shouldn’t tell you. It’s something

quite different.”’

‘What sort of different? Tom’s not ill or something, is

he?’

‘No, nothing like that. It’s just that I swore I wouldn’t

tell anyone, and it’s to do with Tom’s business.’

‘Boot, who am I going to tell? Living in this backwater.’

‘You mustn’t tell Sandy even. He might talk.’

‘I won’t tell Sandy, but—’

‘Okay, then. I need to tell someone anyway. Fleming

Cotterill are in trouble. I mean, real trouble. They’ve got to

get hold of some more money fast, or they could go bust.’

‘My God. Really?’

‘Yes. Our house is remortgaged right up to the hilt, and

so is Aubrey’s. If the bank foreclosed, well

‘But why so secret? I don’t understand.’

‘It’s the pack-of-cards thing. If the clients he’s got, even

one of them, heard the company was dodgy, one of them

might pull out too. Then he really would have had it.’

‘Oh, dear. Yes, I see. So your little fun and games with

the wood was really quite catastrophic?’

‘It didn’t help. I feel a bit bad about that.’

‘You shouldn’t feel bad about anything you do to Tom.’

‘But it’s not just him, it’s the other people in the firm.

Aubrey’s so nice. And there are people there with young

families. You can’t help feeling responsible for them. And

then of course, if it does go bust, what happens to our house

and the children and everything? So I do feel worried, yes.’

‘He can get hold of some money, it isn’t difficult.

They’re drowning in money in the City, Daddy says. Do

you want me to ask him? Maybe he could help.’

‘No!’ said Octavia horrified. ‘Louise, you mustn’t mention

it to anyone. Please.’

‘All right. I won’t. I promise. Now then, have you

forgiven me?’

‘What? Yes, of course I have. I think I should be asking

you the same thing, not trusting you like that. I’m sorry

you’re so unhappy, Louise, so sorry.’

‘Oh, well,’ said Louise, with a sigh, ‘no doubt I’ll get

over it one day …’

 

Octavia felt remorseful when she put the phone down:

remorseful and very sad. Poor Louise. She must find the

article, maybe Sandy’s vasectomy could be reversed. She

buzzed for Sarah Jane, asked her to look for it and then

settled down to writing a full proposal for Lauren Bartlett

about the day at Brands Hatch for Next Generation.

A few lines in, she stopped, sat staring at her screen.

Something was troubling her, distracting her, and she

couldn’t think what it was. Something that had happened in

the last hour or so, something ugly, burrowed deep now

into her subconscious. What was it? What was it about?

Raking through her brain, going over the experiences of

the morning, revealed nothing. But there was something; she knew there was …

 

‘But would you want to get into bed with him?’ Aubrey’s

voice was thoughtful.

Tom looked at him quickly, then laughed.

‘Just for a moment then, I wondered, Aubrey.’

‘No, no, dear boy. Purely in the business sense. He’s not

just going to let us take his money and run. He’s going to

be there, sitting in on meetings, questioning our decisions.

We won’t be our own masters any more. Fair enough.

Maybe we don’t deserve to be. But we do need to find

someone who’s in sympathy with us. And I don’t think Mr

Foster is.’

‘In a perfect world, no. Nice enough, I suppose, bloody

tough, but as a partner, maybe not. Bit crass.’

‘Very crass. And my father told me never to trust a man

in a short-sleeved shirt.’

‘I think I agree with your father. His suit was vile too.

However, can we really be that picky? If he’s prepared to

come up with the cash. Illingworth hasn’t come up with

anyone else. We have two days left.’

‘I know, Tom. But it would be madness to get into a

relationship that wasn’t tenable. I’d like to look a little

further,’ said Aubrey, ‘hang on the cliff a bit longer. If

you’re game.’

Tom hesitated, then he said, ‘By all means let’s cast our

net a bit wider, but I don’t quite see where the perfect bride

might be found.’

‘I’ve got one idea,’ said Aubrey. ‘Old chum with a

boutique-style investment bank phoned this morning,

about a dinner he’s giving. I hadn’t thought of him before,

but I mentioned it and he seemed interested. More likely to

come in with us than the big boys are.’

‘Sounds good,’ said Tom.

‘Yes, but not a lot more likely, I have to say. Anyway, I’ll

talk to him later today, if you’re agreeable. Want to be in

on it? Around four?’

‘Yeah, I’d like to be there,’ said Tom. ‘God, if only we

could get one of those two new prospects to sign, it would

make such a difference.’

‘One of them will,’ said Aubrey easily. ‘I feel it in my

water.’

 

Romilly listened to her mother very carefully as she told

her that Christie’s had said they did want her for their new

campaign, that they were sending over a contract for her

mother to look at and talk to her solicitor about, that Ritz

Franklyn also wanted them to go into the agency and

discuss it with them. Romilly agreed that she couldn’t

possibly go into Choice before Monday, since she was

going away for the weekend, and she also agreed that it was

very important that Ritz understood that she was only

available part time, in the school holidays and at half term,

until she had done her GCSEs at the very least.

‘You might hate it,’ Marianne said, and Romilly said,

yes, of course she might.

Marianne also said that her father was still very against the

whole thing, and if they were to proceed it was very

important to be able to present him with the kind of

scenario which would allay his fears.

‘What are the fears?’ said Romilly. ‘Exactly?’

‘Oh, darling, your education being disrupted. You being

hurt. Other dangers …’

‘What, like drugs and all that stuff? Shooting coke in the

dressing room?’ She was smiling at her mother, agreeing

that it was an absurd joke. ‘And don’t tell me. He thinks I’ll

go anorexic’

‘He didn’t actually spell that out,’ said Marianne, ‘but—’

‘But it’s there, in his head, right?’

‘Right.’

‘That’s obviously nonsense. You know how greedy I am.

As for making myself sick — well, I’m phobic about it, aren’t

I?’

‘You are,’ said Marianne, smiling at her.

‘So — think we can do it? I don’t want to upset him.’

‘I think so. You really are being very mature about this, darling. I’m impressed.’

‘Well,’ said Romilly seriously, ‘it’s a tough business. I’ll

need to be mature. Anyway, we’ll go and chat to them on

Monday, right?’

‘Right. And maybe we should have a chat with the

dentist.’

Romilly went upstairs. She could never remember

feeling so happy. Happy and self-confident. It was going to

be all right. They were going to come round. She just had

to be mature and patient about it, that was all. Impress

everyone, including her parents, show them she appreciated

their point of view. Not behave like a baby. Ritz Franklyn

had said as much, when she had rung her in tears at

lunchtime, the day before, asking if there was any news

about the contract.

‘But don’t quote me on this, Romilly. Show them

you’ve thought it all through for yourself, that you’re

grown up enough to cope with it all. Which I know you

are …’

 

Octavia was just wondering how she was going to get

through yet another hostile weekend when the phone rang.

It was Lauren Bartlett.

‘Octavia, hi. Listen, how would next Wednesday be for

the meeting? And I wondered if you and Tom were around

on Sunday. Just a casual lunch, a few old friends. There’s a

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