Sleeping Arrangements (28 page)

Never mind about anybody else.'

'So—what are you saying?' Hugh spread his arms. 'You think I got Philip fired?'

'You tell me!' Chloe's voice rose wildly. 'Did you?'

'Of course he didn't!' chimed in Amanda. 'Chloe, I can understand you're upset—'

'Can you?' Chloe swivelled to face her, her eyes glowing ominously. 'Can you, Amanda?'

Be quiet, Amanda, thought Hugh, alarmed. Just leave her alone. But Amanda was walking forward, a soothing expression on her face.

'Of course I can. A job loss is an awful thing. But there's no point lashing out, or trying to find a scapegoat. What you have to remember, Chloe, is that in every takeover there are cas-ualties. It's nobody's fault—that's just the way these things work.'

'You're the expert, are you?' said Chloe.

'No . . .' said Amanda, 'but I seem to be more in touch with the real world than you are.'

'The real world?' Chloe's voice rose mockingly. 'Don't make me laugh, Amanda. You don't know anything about the real world. Just look at you, with your dyed hair, and your fake breasts—'

'My breasts are real, thank you very much,' said Amanda icily.

'Then they're the only things that are! You've got no bloody idea how the real world works.

A nanny looks after your children . . . I shouldn't think you lift a finger from one end of the day to the other.'

'That's not true, actually,' put in Jenna from the other side of the pool. 'She does.'

'Oh, very sweet,' said Chloe, wheeling round. 'Loyalty from the staff. How much did that cost?'

'Piss off, Chloe,' said Jenna, reaching for a towel. 'If you don't mind me saying so, you're talking a load of crap.'

'Chloe, just get a grip,' said Hugh. 'I know you don't mean what you're saying . . .'

'Don't I?' said Chloe, her voice shrill. 'Don't I?'

Her face was bright and savage, her eyes daggers of hatred—and all at once Hugh saw in her a new degree of anger. A depth of hostility toward Amanda was emerging which Chloe probably didn't even realize she possessed. All the years of hurt, coming to the surface, venting themselves on her unwitting rival, like sweat carrying away the fever. Hugh stared at the sheer, undiluted passion in Chloe's face and felt something thunder distantly through him.

This was how much he had hurt her.

'What about your marriage to Hugh?' Chloe was spitting. 'How real is that?'

'Chloe, that's enough!' A genuine anger surged through Hugh. 'I know you're upset. But this is going way too far . . .'

'It's all right, Hugh,' said Amanda calmly. 'I can deal with this.' She took a step forward, her chin high, her face dignified. 'It's very easy for you to make fun of me, isn't it, Chloe? Crack little jokes, make little digs. In case you'd forgotten, I took your son Nat on an outing this afternoon. I drove him, I fed him, I entertained him—I even held his head while he was sick all over my shoes.' She took another step forward, her eyes glinting dangerously. 'I—the woman who apparently never lifts a finger—have been looking after your child for you. That's what I've been doing, Chloe. What have you been doing?'

'She's been sleeping with your husband,' said Jenna calmly, from the other side of the pool.

Hugh's heart stopped. He felt blood rush into his face, then rush out again. His body was frozen, he couldn't open his mouth; he felt giddy with fear.

No-one spoke. There was silence, save for the lapping of the water.

'Joke,' said Chloe at last, staring at Jenna with furious, darkened eyes. 'Joke.'

Jenna surveyed the pool. She looked at the children, huddled on towels by the water's edge. Hugh, standing in a state of paralysis, Chloe, still flushed and trembling. Amanda, her beautifully arched eyebrows knitted anxiously. And, in the distance, Philip, approaching with a bottle of wine and a tray of glasses, a relaxed smile on his face.

'Joke,' she said at last. She gave Hugh an unsmiling look, and he felt a lurch of shame.

'Joke?' said Amanda, and shook her head incredulously. 'Jenna, I'm sorry, but this has got to stop! I've been meaning to talk to you all week about these jokes of yours . . .'

Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh was aware of Chloe looking at him. But he couldn't turn his head. Not yet. He felt like an accident survivor who must proceed very cautiously, who must avoid jeopardizing the whole rescue operation with the wrong move.

'I know you mean well,' Amanda was saying. 'And I like a joke as much as anyone. But sometimes yours just aren't funny. In fact, they can be really quite offensive.'

'I'm sorry,' said Jenna in a deadpan voice. Her eyes flickered towards Chloe. 'It won't happen again. Be sure of that.'

There was silence, broken only by the whispers of Octavia and Beatrice. In unison, they got to their feet and leapt back into the pool. At the same time, Philip reached the terraced area, his face friendly and unsuspicious.

'Hi, Philip,' said Jenna, a note of compassion in her voice.

'Hi!' said Philip. He looked from face to face. 'What's going on?'

Good question, thought Hugh in the ensuing pause. Very good question.

'Nothing,' said Chloe eventually. 'We've just been talking . . . and the girls are swimming . .

.'

'Well, I thought perhaps we could all have a drink,' said Philip. 'Toast my newfound unemployment. Everyone want some wine?'

As he began to pour out glasses of wine, Hugh cautiously moved one foot, and then another, as though unstiffening himself after months of immobility. He was aware of Chloe doing the same, of the frozen tableau around the pool beginning to dissolve back into normal life.

'Doesn't seem to be cooling down, does it?' said Philip, peering up at the deepening blue of the sky. He began to hand out glasses of wine. 'Here we are.'

'I'm so sorry to hear about your job, Philip,' said Amanda, as she took one.

'Thanks,' said Philip. 'So was I. But now . . .' He smiled. 'Now I'm feeling pretty chipper.'

'Are you?' said Amanda disbelievingly. 'Well, that's good.'

'Philip's got all sorts of plans,' said Chloe. 'He's going to make this the best thing that ever happened to him.'

Hugh stared into his glass for a moment, feeling his heart thump with anticipation; with apprehension. Then, summoning all his courage, he looked up.

'Perhaps he can give me a few tips,' he said lightly.

'Tips on what?' said Amanda.

'Tips on making unemployment the best thing that ever happens to you.'

'Unemployment?' Amanda gave a little laugh. 'Hugh, what are you . . .' She broke off un-steadily. Hugh looked around the gathered faces and gave a small shrug.

'You're not saying . . .' began Philip.

'They've got rid of you, too!' said Chloe in sudden realization, a slight edge of triumph to her voice. 'They've sacked you, haven't they? Turned the axe on their own people.'

'They haven't got rid of me.' Hugh looked around the group. 'I've resigned.'

There was a staggered silence.

'What?' Amanda swallowed. 'What did you—'

'I've left my job.' As he said the words, Hugh felt a lightness spread through him. 'I made the call this afternoon. Told them I was quitting.'

'This . . . this is another joke,' said Amanda. Her eyes darted suspiciously to Jenna. 'Isn't it?'

'It's no joke.' Hugh exhaled sharply. 'Amanda, I told you. I want to change my life. I've spent too many hours away from the children, away from you . . . putting work first and everything else second. I want work to come second for a change.'

'I don't believe it,' said Amanda faintly. She sank down heavily onto a chair. 'I just don't believe it.'

'You haven't done this because of this afternoon,' said Philip, looking distressed. 'Hugh, whatever I think of PBL, you did everything you could for me. I heard you—you really put yourself on the line for me. So if it's anything to do with that . . .'

'Partly it's to do with that.' Hugh met Philip's eyes. 'Partly it's just a realization that my life isn't all I want it to be.'

'No-one's life is all they want it to be!' exclaimed Amanda. 'You think my life is all I want it to be? That doesn't mean you have to throw it all away, chuck it in the bloody . . .'

'I'm not throwing anything away,' said Hugh. 'I'm grabbing what's important before I lose it completely.'

'Well, as someone who's just been made redundant, I think you're mad,' said Philip.

'Utterly mad.' His face crinkled into a smile. 'But if it's what you want . . . good luck.'

'A lot of nannies would offer to work for nothing at this point,' said Jenna cheerfully. 'Can I just make it clear, I'm not one of them?' She picked up a glass of wine and raised it. 'Good on you, though, Hugh. That must have taken guts.'

'What do you think, Chloe?' said Hugh, raising his head to face her. 'You haven't said anything.'

Chloe gazed back at him, her face still holding traces of anger. Then her expression softened.

'I think . . . you've done the right thing. For you. And I really hope it gives you what you want.'

'Thanks,' said Hugh. 'I hope so, too.'

'This holiday just gets better and better,' said Amanda, staring at the ground. 'Villa arrangements messed up. Children sick. Husband drunk. And now he's resigned his job.' She took a slug of wine. 'What'll happen next?'

'Nothing,' said Hugh. He walked over to the chair, placed his wine glass on the ground and put both arms round her. 'It'll all get better from now, Amanda. I promise.'

'Well,' said Philip after an awkward pause. 'Here's to . . . you, Hugh.'

'And to you, Philip.'

Hugh stood up and the two men raised their glasses. After a pause, the others followed suit. As they drank, there was a shout from the distance and everybody looked up. Sam was running towards the pool, his face full of excitement.

'Hey,' he called. 'Has someone left a bath on or something?'

'I heard a bath running,' said Philip, frowning slightly. 'When I went into the kitchen. I just assumed it was all right—'

'Well, it's not all right,' said Sam, with suppressed glee. 'You'd better come. Quick.'

The sight was spectacular. Water was cascading down the marble stairs in a steady, gushing stream, turning each step into a mini-waterfall; turning the slippery surface into an ice rink. At the base of the staircase it was puddling on the marble floor: a pale, expanding lake, edging gradually towards the door where they were standing.

For a few seconds there was a flabbergasted silence, save for a curious rushing sound in the background. Chloe turned accusingly to Sam.

'Sam, that's the water, isn't it? The water's still on!'

'I know,' said Sam. He saw her face, and added defensively, 'I thought you'd want to see it in action. It's pretty amazing, isn't it? The way it comes down the steps . . .'

'See it in action?' echoed Philip. 'Sam, this isn't a municipal water feature. This is someone else's house!'

'Where's it coming from?' said Amanda.

'Dunno,' said Sam. 'I haven't been upstairs. I think the stairs are pretty slippery.'

'Lethal,' agreed Philip. 'Whoever goes up needs to be careful.'

'But I don't understand,' persisted Amanda. 'Who on earth can have left a bath on? Who was having a bath?'

'We were having a bath,' piped up Octavia from behind the crowd of adults. 'But then we went swimming.'

'You were?' Amanda turned round, frowning slightly. 'Jenna, surely you didn't leave their bath on?'

'Nothing to do with me,' said Jenna. 'Hugh took over bath-time. Told me to go. So I went.

The bath was still running, but I assumed . . .' She shrugged.

Slowly, everyone turned to look at Hugh.

'I may have overlooked . . .' he began awkwardly, and rubbed his reddening face. 'I was in such a hurry . . .'

'Right,' said Philip. 'Well . . . not to worry. These things happen.'

There was an explosion of laughter from Amanda.

'These things happen? This is the man who wants to take more of an active role in looking after his children! Good work, Hugh! Great start.'

'It was a mistake!' said Hugh. 'Anyone could—'

'This is the result when you decide to give the children their baths.' Amanda was shaking with laughter, almost hysterical. 'What will happen when you decide to cook their fish fingers?'

'That's not fair,' protested Hugh feebly.

'Should we alert the emergency services every time you decide to do a spot of babysitting?'

Chloe met Philip's eye and, in spite of herself, a grin spread over her face. Jenna gave a snort of laughter.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'But it is quite funny, Hugh, you have to admit.'

'I suppose so,' said Hugh at last. 'Although really . . .'

He tailed off, and they all turned to survey the water again. As they watched, it began to cascade down in rivulets from the balustrade which ran along the side of the landing.

'OK,' said Philip. 'I think someone had better get up there and turn it off.' He looked at his canvas shoes. 'I'll go.'

'No, I'll go,' said Hugh. 'I'm the one who caused it.'

'Remember, Hugh,' said Amanda, as he began to step cautiously over the slippery floor,

'you're turning it off. Do you know which way that is, darling?'

A giggle rose in Chloe and she clamped her hand over her mouth to stop it.

'I'll go up, too,' said Philip, following Hugh slowly across the floor. 'Not because I don't think you know which way off is,' he added, as Hugh turned round suspiciously.

Chloe glanced at Jenna, trying to keep a straight face—but it was no good. Laughter was rising uncontrollably inside her like a geyser. She sank to the floor, her stomach aching, and felt as though months of tension were being relieved by this stupid, childish moment. Then she realized it was years. Years of hurt, years of suppressed pain—bubbling away in laughter.

'D'you think they'll be all right?' said Jenna between giggles, watching Hugh and Philip carefully ascend the stairs.

'They'll be fine,' said Amanda. 'All they have to do is go to the bath and turn off the taps.'

'I don't know,' said Jenna, shaking her head. 'Taps are pretty tricky stuff.'