Harriet (20 page)

    One lunchtime, Dr. Williams rang up, and after a brief conversation Noel disappeared in Cory’s car. She returned five hours later, flushed and radiant, and came into the kitchen to regale Mrs. Bottomley and Harriet with a long spiel about the impossibility of finding the right pair of shoes in Leeds for her television appearance.

    ‘Did you try Schofields?’ said Mrs. Bottomley.

    ‘I tried everywhere. I must have visited twenty shoe shops,’ sighed Noel.

    At that moment, Sevenoaks wandered over to her big bag which lay open on a chair, and before she could stop him, plunged his face inside and drew out a pair of frilly peach-coloured pants.’I’m surprised you didn’t find anything at Dolcis,’ said Mrs. Bottomley.

    Harriet had to go out of the room to stop herself from laughing. She would have given anything to have told Cory.

    She suspected, however, that Dr. Williams and Ronnie were pure dalliance, and Noel’s big guns were aimed at getting Cory back. Cory avoided opportunities to be alone with her and slept in the spare room. He buried himself in a load of work he’d brought back from America, and in getting Python ready for the point-to-point on Saturday. Occasionally Harriet saw his eyes resting on Noel, but she could not read their meaning. How did that beauty affect him now? He was kind to Harriet, but detached, as though his mind was somewhere beyond her reach. One thing she was certain of. If Noel came back, she would be straight out of a job. It made her very uneasy.

    On the last evening before Noel went South, she and Cory stayed up talking. Harriet, coming down to get some Ribena for William, heard raised voices. The door was ajar and she stopped to listen:

    ‘You’ve been content to leave the children entirely to me,’

    Cory was saying. ‘Now you have the effrontery to say you want them back.’

    ‘Ronnie and I have a house in France now as well as one in London,’ said Noel. ‘They’d be proper bases for the children to live. Be honest, Cory, children need a mother. A man can’t really bring up children on his own.’

    ‘I haven’t managed too badly so far,’ snapped Cory. ‘You know perfectly well there is only one set of terms on which I’m prepared for you to have the children and as you’re quite incapable of complying with them, there’s no point in discussing it.’

    He means her coming back to him and chucking all the others, thought Harriet miserably.

    ‘How do you know I’m incapable of complying with them?’ said Noel huskily.

    The next moment the door shut.

    Harriet fled upstairs. It’s going to happen, she thought in anguish. But five minutes later she heard Cory come upstairs and the spare-room door open and shut. It was as though a great spear had been drawn out of her side.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

    HARRIET never forgot the day of the point-to-point - the bookies shouting, the county in their well-cut tweeds, the children sucking toffee apples, the crowds pressing around the paddock and the finishing post, the circling horses with their glossy coats.

    She stood in the paddock trying to hold on to an impossibly over-excited Chattie - poor Jonah hadn’t been allowed out - watching Python being saddled up. The black mare’s coat rippling blue in the sunshine.

    Cory came over to them. He was wearing a pink and grey striped shirt, and carrying a pink and grey cap. They had hardly spoken since Noel left. He picked up her hand and gave her his watch.

    ‘Look after it for me,’ he said, curling her fingers over it. ‘Good luck,’ she whispered.

    ‘Good luck, Daddy,’ said Chattie.

    They watched him feel Python’s girths, clap a hand on the ebony quarters, put a foot in the stirrup and he was up, riding slowly round the paddock.

    Two men beside Harriet in the crowd were discussing them.

    ‘Grand looking beast. Bit young, bit light, though.’

    ‘Erskine can ride her.’

    ‘Oh it’s Erskine is it? That’s worth a fiver each way.’

    Harriet’s heart swelled with pride. Oh, please let him win. He needs this small, unimportant victory so much to cheer him up.

    There were nine horses in the race. Acceptance, the favourite, a tall rangy bay, had been heavily backed to win. Harriet and Chattie climed to the top of the hill, so they could see nearly all the way round the course and also hear the commentator. Harriet was so nervous she could hardly bear to watch.

    At last they were off. For the first time round, Python was lying sixth for most of the way, but as the field started to jump the fences for the second time, she slowly began moving up.

    ‘And now they’ve only got eight fences to jump,’ said the commentator. ‘And it’s still Snow Moss from Acceptance. then Lazy Lucy and Tragedy Queen. Python is going very well and making ground all the time. Now they’re coming up to the seventh from home and it’s still Acceptance and Snow Moss. But Acceptance jumped that crooked and someone’s down. I can’t see exactly who it is… yes, it’s Python! Python’s down, I’m afraid.’

    The crowd gave a groan. Harriet felt an agonizing pain shoot through her. But she was only conscious of fear - that Cory might be hurt, badly hurt.

    Chattie started to cry.

    ‘He’ll be all right,’ said Harriet in a shaking voice.

    The microphone crackled. ‘I’m sorry,’ said the commentator. ‘I made a mistake. It wasn’t Python, it was Lazy Lucy who fell at the last fence - they’ve got similar colours. Python’s there and still making ground.’

    Tears pricked Harriet’s eyes. Relief streamed over her.

    As if in a dream, she watched Cory’s figure crouched over the little back mare, coaxing her, urging her on. Slowly the distance between him and the leaders shortened. Only one more fence to go, and then Snow Moss had fallen, and it was only a tiring Acceptance between Cory and victory.

    ‘Come on,’ shrieked Harriet. And now Python was drawing level. For a split second, it looked as though Acceptance was going to hold on, then Python drew ahead by a nose as • they passed the post.

    How Harriet and Chattie hugged each other!

    ‘I’ve won 5Op,’ screamed Chattie.

    Everyone cheered as Cory rode in. For once, a broad grin was spread across the impassive features, as he patted the sweating mare.

    ‘Oh, clever, clever Daddy!’ screeched Chattie.

    Cory’s eyes met Harriet’s. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we did it.’

    He dismounted and then, Harriet never remembered afterwards how it hannened. a golden figure smothered in furs suddenly pushed her way through the crowd, and flung her arms round Cory’s neck. It was Noel.

    ‘Oh, darling, darling,’ she cried. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

    ‘Mummy! Whatever are you doing here?’ said Chattie.

    ‘I’m not going to marry Ronnie,’ cried Noel. ‘I’ve come back, back to Daddy. We’re all going to be one happy family again.’

    Suddenly the paddock seemed to be full of photographers.

    ‘This is the most wonderful day of my life,’ said Noel, smiling at them radiantly.

    Cory’s face was quite expressionless.

    In a daze, Harriet watched Chattie pulling at Noel’s coat.

    ‘Mummy, Mummy! Did you bring me a present?’

    ‘Yes, of course I did, darling.’ She turned round to Harriet with a mocking smile on her beautiful face. ‘I even brought a little cadeau for Harriet.’

    Harriet looked round and gave a gasp. She hadn’t noticed the slender, elegant figure in the black fur coat and dark glasses.

    ‘Hullo, Harriet, darling,’ said Simon.

    ‘Simon! Oh, my God,’ whispered Harriet. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her hand flew to her cheek. Then Chattie gave a shriek. ‘Look at Harriet! She’s hurt herself.’

    Looking down, Harriet realized that blood was pouring from her hand. Then the horrified faces in front of her started going round and round, and she lost consciousness.

    Darkness, sickness, throbbing pain engulfed her. The sound of different voices drummed in her ears.

    A wail from Chattie: ‘She’s not dying, is she?’

    Noel’s voice, steel-tipped with irritation: ‘Of course not, she’s only fainted.’

    Cory’s voice like gravel, harsh with anxiety: ‘Get back all of you! Can’t you see she needs more air?’

    Another voice, tender, caressing, languid. Could it really be Simon’s?

    ‘Everything’s going to be all right, darling, I’m with you now.’

    Then great whirling clouds of darkness coming down again, then slowly clearing and, suddenly, she opened her eyes and saw a face looking down at her, pale against the sable coat, a face she was only used to seeing in dreams, or disappearing in nightmares.

    ‘Oh, Simon,’ she croaked weakly, ‘is it really you?’

    ‘Hullo, baby. Yes, it’s me, but you mustn’t try to talk.’

    ‘I’m not dreaming, am I?’

    He smiled, but there were tears in his eyes. ‘Not dreaming. Feel.’ He touched her cheek with his hand but, as she turned her head to kiss it, he said, ‘Lie still.’

    ‘Where am I?’

    ‘In a draughty ambulance. A bossy old fag’s been bandaging up your hand. You cut it breaking the glass on Cory’s watch in your pocket. Must have been the shock of seeing me. Flattering, I suppose, that I still have that affect on you.’

    That wasn’t quite right, but Harriet was too dazed to work out why.

    ‘Where’s Cory? And the children and everyone?’

    ‘Stop worrying about other people,’ he said soothingly. ‘Oh, Simon, you do look lovely,’ she sighed.

    It was exactly the right thing to have said. He smiled and dipped a lavender silk handkerchief in a mug of water beside her, and gently began to sponge the blood from the side of her face.

    ‘When you’re feeling up to it, I’m going to drive you to the hospital to have some stitches put in your hand.’

    Harriet watched him light a cigarette and insert it carefully in a dark blue cigarette holder.

    ‘Simon, Noel didn’t force you to come up here?’

    He looked mortified. ‘Oh, darling! Do you think I’m that much of a bastard? Borzoi and I broke up just after I saw you last. I’ve been trying to trace you ever since. No one knew where you were - your old boss, your landlady, even your parents. I didn’t know a thing about the baby until Noel rang me this morning. I was completely poleaxed - half knocked out at finding you, half horror at what you’d been through.’

    He took her hands. ‘From now on I’m going to make the decisions, and I’m never going to let you go again.’ At that moment, Cory came into the ambulance, and Harriet was furious to find herself snatching her hands away. He was wearing a battered sheepskin coat over his pink and grey silk shirt, and had to stoop in order to avoid banging his head.

    ‘Hullo, how are you?’ How austere it sounded, after Simon’s gushing tenderness.

    She struggled to sit up. ‘I’m all right. I’m sorry about your watch.’

    ‘Doesn’t matter at all, you only smashed the glass.’

    ‘I’m so pleased you w-won the race.’

    He smiled briefly. ‘Bloody good, wasn’t it? When you’re feeling stronger, I’ll run you over to the hospital.’

    ‘I’m taking her to the hospital,’ said Simon in his languid voice, tipping ash from his cigarette on to the floor just by Cory’s feet. The gesture was curiously insolent. ‘And then I thought we’d drive back to your place. I’m quite anxious to see my son.’

    Then Noel came into the ambulance. ‘I’m giving Harriet the weekend off, Cory,’ she said. ‘It won’t do Mrs. Bottomley any harm to do some work for a change. She can easily take care of the children and William.’

    ‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ snapped Cory. ‘Harriet’s lost a lot of blood. She’s going straight home to bed after she’s been to hospital.’

    ‘Cory,’ said Noel patiently, ‘these children haven’t seen each other for absolutely ages. They ought to be on their own together.’

    ‘Rubbish,’ said Cory brusquely. ‘They’ve got nothing to say to each other. It was all over years ago.’

    Harriet took no pleasure that these people were fighting over her. She felt a bit like a hostess with no drink in the house, invaded by a crowd of people. The mixture of heavy scent, antiseptic and French cigarettes was making her dizzy. Noel’s cold yellow eyes were boring into her.

    ‘I think I’d better go with Simon,’ she said.

    Harriet only remembered isolated incidents about the rest of the day. ‘I’ve booked in at a hotel down the valley,’ Simon said as he drove her back from the hospital. He put his hand on her thigh. ‘I hadn’t
realized
how much I’d wantyou. I’ve never met anyone who took to sex like you did.’

    Harriet felt overwhelmed by a great weariness. She was in no mood for a sexual marathon.

    Neither was Simon’s meeting with William the success she had hoped. William, woken from sleep, was red-faced and bad-tempered. Simon, after initial cooings and ravings, had no idea what to do with him. Holding him at arm’s length, like a bomb about to explode, fearful he might be sick over the beautiful fur coat, he handed him back to Harriet almost immediately.

    She had fantasized about them meeting for so long, the joy, the incredulity, it was bound to be an anticlimax. Simon couldn’t be expected to be as good with babies as Cory.

    She tried to shake off her depression as she threw clothes into a
small
suitcase, but she was gripped with the same feeling of menace she’d always had when packing to go back to school. She felt rather ashamed that she put in three novels she wanted to read and the remains of the sleeping pills Cory had made her get from the doctor. Sevenoaks and Tadpole sat around looking miserable at the sight of suit- cases.

    ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow,’ she said hopefully.

    Just as she was combing her hair in front of the mirror, Cory walked in without knocking.

    ‘You’re mad to go off with Simon,’ he said harshly, speak- ing directly to her haggard reflection. ‘He’s a spoilt, corrupt little boy with no guts and no backbone. He’s ditched you once, he’ll ditch you again.’

    Harriet put her head in her hands.

    ‘Don’t bully me,’ she said in real anguish. ‘I’m in such a muddle.’

    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said in a much gentler voice, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘But just because he’s William’s father, you mustn’t feel you ought to marry him.’

    For a second, Harriet leant against him, then she stood up.

    ‘I’ve got to talk to Simon, and try to sort out what I feel.’

    For a minute they stared at each other. Then he buttoned her coat up as if she was a little girl.

    ‘Be careful,’ he said.

    Later, she remembered being impressed by the cool way Simon had written Mr. and Mrs. Villiers in the hotel visitors’ book, as though he’d done it a hundred times before. He’d booked them into a luxury three-room suite.

    He was at his most winning too, remorseful at his previous conduct, gazing into her eyes, telling her how beautiful she had become, beguiling her with bitchy stories about film stars he had met, speaking of his future with her and William. All perfect; yet Harriet had the feeling she’d got on to the wrong bus and was desperately hurtling in a direction she didn’t want to go.

    He had changed too. He had all the sheen and glitter of the star now. When he talked to her, she felt he was playing to an audience.

    ‘I want to know everything that’s happened to you since we split up,’ he said.

    But when she started telling him, despite the intent look on his face, she knew his thoughts were miles away, so she changed the subject. ‘It’s wonderful you’ve done so well, Simon.’

    He spread his hands out. ‘Just luck, really. I had mild success with a couple of television plays I did, and I made this film abroad; just a small part, but everyone’s raving about the rushes. And in May I’m going to make a film with Noel, with a really meaty part in it. She’s been terribly kind.’

    Harriet wondered what form Noel’s kindness had taken. ‘You haven’t been having an affair with her?’ she asked idly.

    Dar-ling! Be reasonable. She’s old enough to be my mother.’

    ‘She could hardly be your mother when she was ten.’

    ‘I wouldn’t even put that past her! Anyway, I don’t go for these busty, earthmother types - I like my women slim. You’ve got the most gorgeous figure since you lost all that weight.’

    Harriet smiled, but she found her thoughts wandering back to Cory and how he and Noel were getting on at thismoment, and then she realized it hadn’t been the shock of seeing Simon that had made her cut her hand, it must have been the sharp, ignored pain that shot through her when she thought Cory’s horse had fallen in the race.

    Simon was still talking about his new film. Concentrate on his beauty, she kept telling herself. He’s far better looking than Cory. The champagne was beginning to make her feel sick.