Forget Me Not (22 page)

‘Thank you, sweetheart.’ He stroked her head.

‘But this guy, Percy what’s-is-name, may fancy
her
,’ I went on as I lifted Milly on to my lap, ‘but you have no proof that she reciprocates, do you?’

‘No.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t.’ He picked up Milly’s Megasketch board and drew a cartoon of a cat on it, which Milly then wiped off with the lever. ‘But you get a feeling about things,’ Jamie went on. ‘And my gut feeling about Thea is that she’s changed recently, and this could well be why.’ He now wrote ‘Thea & Jamie’ on the slate in large, curly letters. Then he pulled down the lever, released it and their names were slowly erased with a mechanical wheeze. ‘If she had been unfaithful I could never get over it,’ he added quietly.

‘Don’t assume anything,’ I advised him. ‘Just talk to her. When she’s back from this trip, wait till she’s recovered, then calmly show her the card and tell her how you felt when you found it. Give her an opportunity to explain it, otherwise your suspicions, which may be wrong, could destroy your relationship.’

‘That’s true. Thanks, Anna.’ He sighed once more. ‘Anyway, I’d better get back. I’ve lots to do.’ Bye, little Princess.’ Milly put up her arms for a hug. ‘And how are things going with Prince Charming?’ he asked me as he put his boots back on. I’d told Jamie that I’d met Patrick again.

‘It’s going fine…’ I said. ‘We’re still getting to know each other – I’m not going to rush things but I do … like him.’

‘So he’s a nice guy?’

‘He seems to be.’

‘Good,’ Jamie said feelingly. ‘And has Milly met him yet?’

‘No. It’s much too early.’

Jamie was so depressed about Thea that it would have been tactless of me to tell him how happy I was with Patrick. We’d been seeing each other for three weeks. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake that I’d made with Xan, so we were taking things slowly. We’d been out to dinner and to the opera; I’d got tickets for a couple of plays. And the following weekend we were due to go away. Dad had agreed to stay in the house and look after Milly as I’d never leave an au pair in charge overnight.

‘So you’re going away for the weekend?’ Dad had said when I’d phoned him to ask.

‘Just for one night – to Cliveden.’

‘Very posh. With whom?’ he added, ‘if you don’t mind my asking.’

‘With Patrick, actually. My new … erm … friend.’

‘Ah,’ Dad had said and I’d suddenly felt as self-conscious as a twelve-year-old off to her first disco. ‘But then why shouldn’t you have some fun in your life? Why shouldn’t you have romance again after all you’ve been through? Why
shouldn’t
you meet new, interesting … people … and enjoy their company?’ he’d added vehemently.

There was an odd silence. ‘So can I assume that’s a yes, then?’

‘Oh,’ he’d said distractedly. ‘Yes. And what are you doing about Luisa? Have you found out anything else?’ I’d told him about her cash stash.

‘I’ve hit a blank wall,’ I replied. ‘I have no proof that she came by the money dishonestly, but I still feel uneasy – as though she’s hiding something.’

‘And she hasn’t taken anything?’

‘Which she could have sold, you mean? Like my jewellery? No – I’m sure nothing’s missing. And at that level I feel she’s honest.’

‘But at another level you don’t trust her.’

‘I suppose I don’t.’ The thought depressed me. ‘But then it is more than a bit odd. Cassie thinks it could be cocaine, but I’ve found no trace of drugs in Luisa’s room. She goes out quite a bit at the moment – to the health club she always says, though that could be a cover.’

‘Then follow her.’

‘That’s what I want to do – but I’d need you to babysit. Could you do Monday, Dad?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t then, Anna. Sorry.’

‘Oh. How about Tuesday?’

‘Erm … sorry, no can do.’ Dad wasn’t usually busy in the evenings. He’d occasionally have dinner with friends, or at his club, but was otherwise at his flat, or with me. ‘Can’t you ask Cassie?’ he added.

‘I already have, but she says her evenings are tied up at the moment. But what about Wednesday? Could you do, say, from 5.30 until 7.30?’

I could hear Dad sucking his lower lip. ‘I did have something planned.’

‘What?’ I couldn’t help asking.

‘Bridge,’ he replied quickly.

‘That’s good – with whom?’

‘The … Travises. Although … I could rearrange it – yes, for dinner instead of drinks. In fact, dinner might be better,’ he mused. ‘OK, then, Wednesday at 5.30 should be fine.’

‘Nice haircut,’ I said to Dad when he arrived.

‘I needed it,’ he said as he squeezed past the buggy. ‘But you don’t think it’s too short?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ I was hit by a whiff of citrussy aftershave.

‘Are you sure?’ he added anxiously. He glanced in the big circular mirror at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Quite sure. It’s rather youthful.’

‘Really?’ he said happily as he ran his left hand over his head. ‘How old does it make me look?’

‘Erm… fifty-two.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘No,’ I protested, happy to soothe his battered ego. Dad beamed at me. ‘And is that a new shirt?’

‘It is. My old ones were looking shabby, I suddenly noticed, so I went to Selfridges. Do you like it?’

‘Mm. The purple check suits you,’ I lied. ‘And how’s the flat looking?’

‘Very good – but don’t forget my new planters, will you?’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry, it keeps slipping my mind. But I will get them for you soon, I promise.’

I’d already asked Luisa whether she had any plans for the evening and she’d volunteered that she was going swimming again.

‘’Bye,’ I called out to her as she set off at a quarter to six.

‘’Bye, Anna.’

‘
Adiós!
’ Milly called out as she did a Teletubbies jigsaw at the dining-room table.

I watched from the sitting-room window to see which way she went. Then I kissed a surprised Milly goodbye, grabbed my bag and pursued Luisa down the street. I was wearing trainers, so that my steps couldn’t be heard. I followed her across Blythe Road, past Jamie’s flat, clocking the Bentley Continental, then past Sweet Peas, across Brook Green, down Rowan Road and now, sure enough, Luisa crossed over Hammersmith Road and went into the W6 Health Club.

I flashed my card at the receptionist and lingered in the café for a few minutes to give Luisa time to change. Then I surreptitiously looked through the glass observation wall into the pool, where I now saw Luisa emerge from the ladies’ changing room in her navy swimsuit. She showered by the jacuzzi, then dropped into the water and ploughed up and down for about half an hour before climbing out again and getting dressed. She walked past the café without noticing me, left the building and went straight back home the way she’d come.

‘The coast’s clear,’ Dad whispered as he opened the door. ‘She’s gone up to her room to watch TV.’

‘Oh,’ I said, breathless from the exertion. ‘Well, she said she was going swimming and that’s exactly what she did do. But can we do this again tomorrow?’

‘Well …’

‘Please, Dad, it’s important.’

‘All … right,’ he said. So we did and exactly the same thing happened – and the next night as well.

‘I don’t think Luisa’s doing anything she shouldn’t be,’ I said to Patrick as we set off for Cliveden in his BMW the following afternoon. ‘I followed her the last three nights and all she did was to go swimming, come back home and go upstairs to her room where she watches TV. She appears to lead a blameless life.’

‘You may have to forget your suspicions, then,’ Patrick said as we drove through west London. ‘You can’t ask her where she got the money …’

‘No.’

‘And you’ve no proof that she’s done anything wrong.’

‘None at all. Just this… odd feeling. Especially as the amount of cash she’s got keeps rising.’

‘Could she be keeping it for a boyfriend?’

‘Possibly, though she doesn’t seem to have one.’

‘But she works hard, you say.’

‘Very hard – and Milly adores her.’

‘Then I’d leave it – good childcare’s hard to find.’

‘That’s true.’ I pressed the button to open my window.

‘Please don’t do that!’ Patrick said, raising it again from the central controls.

His sharp tone took me aback. ‘Why not?’ I ventured. ‘It’s a warm afternoon. We’re having an early heatwave.’

‘But the air-conditioning’s very efficient.’

‘I know, but I like a bit of breeze. And I hate the feeling that I’m sealed inside a car like an insect in a jam jar.’

‘
I
hate having the windows down while we’re in town, though. The pollution makes me feel ill.’

‘But there’s very little traffic.’ This felt dangerously like an argument. I found myself wondering at what point in a new relationship it was acceptable to have one.

‘Here … I’ll cool the air temperature a bit more.’ Patrick fiddled with the thermostat. ‘Is that better?’

‘Yes,’ I lied as I gazed through the glass. ‘So how long will it take to get there?’ I asked in an effort to lighten the atmosphere.

‘Only an hour. That’s why it’s so good for romantic weekends.’

‘Have you had many of them there, then?’ I smiled as we turned on to the M4.

‘Sadly not,’ he replied. ‘I’ve only been once before, with Suzie, when she was eight months pregnant. We spent most of the time arguing.’

‘About what, if you don’t mind my asking?’

‘About marriage. She felt that I should just “get on with it”, but I wanted to wait because we’d been together less than a year.’

‘Well, I guess that sounds fair enough.’

‘Anyway, the hotel’s lovely and it’s hard to believe that it’s so near London, let alone Heathrow. I knew you couldn’t go anywhere too far away, because of Milly.’

‘That’s true. Thanks for planning this, Patrick, I’ve been looking forward to it.’

We sped along the motorway towards Taplow and were soon driving down country lanes lush with long grass and parasols of cow parsley, with pools of bluebells in the woods on either side. We turned right on to a long drive, hedged with laurel, then came to a white fountain in the shape of a shell, beyond which loomed a huge Italianate mansion.

‘Wow,’ I murmured as it filled our view.

‘It is a bit “wow” when you first see it. The architect was Charles Barry, who designed the Palace of Westminster.’

‘All I know about Cliveden is that it was where Christine Keeler caught the eye of John Profumo in the early sixties.’

‘That’s all most people know, but the house has a great history. It was home to the Astors a hundred years ago and has been left very much as it was then.’

As we pulled up at the entrance, one footman opened the door while another took our bags. While the car was being valet parked, we were shown up the carved oak staircase to our room on the first floor. It was enormous, with a massive overmantel carved with heraldic figures, a huge marble bathroom and a four-poster bed with a yellow damask canopy.

‘How sumptuous,’ I said.

‘It is – but there aren’t many mod cons,’ Patrick pointed out. ‘No air-conditioning, for example, and no minibar, because it’s run as if it were a grand country house, as though we were personal guests rather than paying punters. All the art and antiques are the original ones that were here when the Astors owned it. Let’s go and explore.’

As we went downstairs again we paused to look at the dark oil paintings of George the Second and Princess Augusta, and the luminous portrait of Nancy Astor by John Singer Sargent. On the grand piano were framed photos of the Astors with Amy Johnson, Churchill and Charlie Chaplin. Then we had tea on the terrace overlooking the formal parterre that flowed into the seemingly endless expanse of rolling parkland.

‘This is lovely,’ I breathed. ‘It’s so … grand.’

We swam in the pretty outdoor pool, then sat in the hot tub as dusk began to descend, spotting the first stars among the twinkling lights of planes coming in and out of Heathrow. Then we went back to the room, took off our robes and swimming things, and made love for the very first time.

‘I’ve been longing to do that,’ Patrick said, lying beside me and stroking my face. ‘Ever since I first saw you.’

‘It’s been such a long time,’ I murmured as he kissed me. ‘I haven’t… since before Milly was born.’

Patrick kissed me again. ‘Good.’

While he took a quick bath I phoned to say goodnight to Milly, then we dressed and went down to dinner.

‘This is so… nice.’ I sighed as we sipped our champagne cocktails in the bar. I felt my stress seep away.

‘You deserve it,’ Patrick said. He lifted my hand to his lips.

Over dinner he asked me a bit more about my family.

‘Cassie sounds like a live wire,’ he said.

‘That’s a rather flattering way of putting it. She’s a woman of twenty-nine who behaves as though she’s still a teenager.’

‘So you disapprove of her?’

‘No.’ I put down my fork. ‘I disapprove of some of the things she does. But I regard her with the same mixture of frustration and affection with which I’ve always regarded her – I worry that she’s wasting her life, that’s all. She refuses to make anything of herself.’

‘Is she clever?’

‘She is. She’s got a very good brain. She had a really expensive education,’ I added resentfully as the waiter removed our plates. ‘I had to make do with the local comprehensive, but my parents sent Cassie to this private day school, then to Marlborough in the sixth form.’

‘Did you mind?’

‘I tried not to.’ I fiddled with the base of the candlestick. ‘Cassie was six years younger than me so my parents had more money by then. But they justified it by saying that Cassie was so wayward that they worried she’d get into the wrong crowd if she went to the school I went to, whereas they’d never had those worries about me.’

‘Because you were stable and hard-working.’

‘Yes. I feel I’ve been punished for that though, while she’s been rewarded for being irresponsible. But I could never do that,’ I went on as the wine waiter replenished our glasses. ‘If I had more than one child, I could never treat them differently.’

‘Would you want any more children?’

I tried to imagine myself with another baby. ‘It feels disloyal to Milly even to contemplate it,’ I replied. ‘In theory, yes, I would, and it would be good for her to have a sibling.’ The waiter brought our puddings. ‘But the circumstances would have to be right.’