Swimming Pool Sunday (28 page)

‘What’s wrong?’ she tried again. Alexis blinked at her, and tried to smile.

‘That was Meredith,’ he began.

‘Meredith Delaney? Is she OK?’ Daisy peered at Alexis worriedly.

‘She’s fine,’ said Alexis shakily. ‘Fine.’

‘Then what …’

‘It’s Hugh. He’s had a heart attack.’

Hugh had been put in a private room on the cardiology ward. When Alexis arrived he was lying quite still in bed, his head resting on three plump pillows, his arm attached to some kind of drip. His eyes were closed and his face was pale and he was dressed in a white hospital gown which made him look disarmed and vulnerable. By the window stood Meredith, her shoulders hunched, her face downcast, and by Hugh’s bed sat Ursula, looking small and frail and confused, like a little grey child.

Meredith was the first to look up.

‘Hi there,’ she said. Her voice sounded scorched and cracked. ‘Thanks for coming.’ Alexis met her eyes and then glanced at Hugh.

‘Is he asleep?’ he said gently. Meredith nodded.

‘I think so.’ She looked at Ursula.

‘I’ll take Alexis to get some coffee,’ she said. ‘You want some?’ Ursula looked at her with blank frightened eyes.

‘No thank you, dear,’ she whispered eventually. ‘Not just at the moment.’

As Meredith picked up her bag and shrugged on a jacket, Alexis looked around the silent cocooned room. He surveyed the low ceiling and smooth pale walls; he took in the plastic pitcher of water and blank television screen. The air was heavy and overwarm, and the whole atmosphere was one of oppression. And in the middle of all of it lay Hugh, still and pale and defenceless. Alexis could hardly bear to look at him.

Outside the room, Meredith gasped and sank down on a bench.

‘You don’t really want coffee, do you?’ she asked, wrinkling her brow. Alexis shook his head. ‘It’s just so hard to talk about it with Ursula there,’ continued Meredith, rubbing a hand over her face. ‘I don’t want to frighten her.’ She paused and added in a low voice, ‘I’m real grateful that you came. It was … it was good of you.’

Alexis looked carefully at her.

‘What … What’s the situation? Have they told you anything?’ Meredith glanced down. For a few moments she was silent, then she looked up at Alexis with hot searing eyes.

‘Basically, Hugh had a heart attack’, she said slowly, in a voice which was tense with emotion, ‘because he was stressed out. Because all day, all night, he does nothing except worry.’ She paused and ran a thin hand through her hair. ‘Because all he can think about is this
fucking
court case.’

She exhaled slowly and reached in her pocket for a cigarette. Alexis stared at her for a moment, then realized he was also holding his breath. He emptied his lungs in a gusty sigh, and watched, almost mesmerized, as Meredith flicked on the flame of her lighter.

‘They’re killing him,’ she said suddenly, dragging deeply on her cigarette. ‘They’re fucking
killing
him!’

Alexis snapped back to attention.

‘Are you sure …’ he began cautiously, then broke off, as Meredith gave him a suspicious glare. He took a breath and tried again. ‘Have the doctors actually
said
it was stress?’

‘More or less,’ said Meredith. She took a puff on her cigarette and hunched her shoulders miserably.

‘Did they mention any other factors?’ said Alexis in reasonable tones. Meredith scowled at him.

‘Well, of course they did.’

‘What, exactly? Too much alcohol?’

‘Oh, Jesus! Why are you trying to shift the blame?’ Meredith stood up angrily and her green eyes glittered at Alexis. ‘You know why Hugh had this heart attack. It wasn’t alcohol. It wasn’t too many rare steaks. It was Louise and Barnaby fucking Kember and their stupid fucking court case.’

‘Meredith, you don’t know that …’

‘Are you saying the case has got nothing to do with it?’ Alexis stared at Meredith silently for a moment, then he sighed.

‘Well … no,’ he said slowly, ‘I suppose not.’ There was a short pause. Meredith stubbed out her cigarette, pulled out her cigarette packet, then changed her mind and put it away again.

‘But I don’t think’, said Alexis suddenly, ‘that the court case can be the only factor.’ Meredith opened her mouth to protest and Alexis raised a hand. ‘Think about it, Meredith,’ he said firmly. ‘Think about Hugh’s lifestyle. He runs his own business; he drinks a lot – well, I mean, he’s a wine-importer, for God’s sake. And then … he’s had a lot of strain in recent years. You all have.’ Alexis broke off and looked at Meredith, to see how she was reacting. Her face was blank. ‘I don’t think’, he continued, ‘that blaming Louise and Barnaby for this is really going to help Hugh – and I don’t think it’s completely fair, either.’

‘For Christ’s sake!’ shouted Meredith suddenly. ‘Stop being so fucking British!’ Her voice bounced off the walls of the little corridor and Alexis’s head jerked up in surprise. ‘I know what you’re saying,’ continued Meredith in shaky tones, taking out another cigarette and lighting it with trembling fingers. ‘I know it’s unreasonable to blame the Kembers for this. I know there are other factors. I know that blaming them won’t help Hugh get better.’ She took a deep drag on her cigarette. ‘But I don’t fucking care, all right?’ Her voice rose higher, and Alexis stared back at her, transfixed. ‘I
want
to blame them,’ she cried, ‘and I
do
blame them. I don’t give a shit about seeing both sides of the story. I love Hugh, and he’s had a heart attack, and it’s all their fault! I’ll never forgive them. And if you weren’t so fucking uptight and reasonable, you’d never forgive them either.’

Alexis stared at Meredith. His heart was pounding with astonishment and, despite himself, a kind of awed admiration. His thoughts flickered between Hugh – blameless honest Hugh, lying in his silent hospital room – and Meredith. Impassioned, unreasonable, warm-hearted, red-blooded Meredith, battling on Hugh’s behalf. In comparison, Alexis suddenly felt old and rather colourless.

‘You’re right,’ he said abruptly.

‘What?’ Meredith gave an exaggerated double take, and the glimmer of a smile appeared on her face. ‘I’m right? Don’t I get a ticking off? Don’t I get a lecture on “forgive and forget”?’

Alexis shrugged. His face felt dry and his reactions slow.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Maybe I am too reasonable, too uptight. Maybe we need more … more warriors, like you.’ Meredith laughed.

‘Hardly a warrior. I picketed against the Gulf War.’

‘Exactly.’ Alexis looked at her with serious eyes. ‘I’ve never picketed against anything. You make me feel as though I’ve been sitting on the fence all my life. I wish …’ He spread his hands helplessly. ‘I wish I had a bit of your fire.’

‘But I’m sure you have,’ said Meredith quietly. ‘Underneath it all …’ She broke off and, for a moment, Alexis simply stared at her. His eyes ran over her strong intelligent face; her green eyes, still bright with excitement; her high forehead, tanned and faintly lined; her sensitive witty mouth. Her eyes met his, and Alexis found himself caught in her gaze.
Suddenly he realized he was holding his breath.

But then, breaking the spell, Meredith stood up. Alexis felt a slight surprising shock of disappointment.

‘I ought to go back,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Hugh might wake up any moment.’

‘Of course,’ said Alexis. ‘I’ll come too.’ He gave a heavy sigh and stood up. ‘God, this is a bloody awful affair.’ Meredith glanced at him.

‘I know it is,’ she said. ‘That’s what I’ve been saying all along.’

The next morning was dull and sunless, with a flat white sky and the feel of autumn in the air. Barnaby was walking slowly towards the village shop, when Sylvia Seddon-Wilson stopped her car and called him over.

‘Barnaby!’ she exclaimed. ‘It’s terrible news, isn’t it?’ Her eyes scanned his face greedily for a reaction, and when his expression turned only to puzzlement, a faint fleeting look of glee passed over her face. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, in tones that didn’t quite hide her triumph at being the first to impart the news. ‘I take it that you haven’t heard?’

‘Heard what?’

‘About Hugh Delaney having a heart attack!’ She paused dramatically, but immediately her attention was distracted as a car noisily overtook her, hooting as it did so. ‘Shut up!’ she yelled angrily after it. ‘Bloody nerve, these people have got! Anyway,’ she resumed chattily. ‘Isn’t it awful?’

She looked sidelong at Barnaby through the car window.

‘Barnaby!’ she exclaimed. ‘Barnaby, are you all right?’

Cassian was saying goodbye to Desmond on the steps of the Linningford office. While Karl had taken the first train back to London, Desmond had spent the morning in further meetings and discussions with the
Linningford partners. The whole office had been made aware that a big shot from London was visiting, and the atmosphere that morning had been one of slight suppressed tension. Cassian, meanwhile, had sat smugly at his desk, glowing in the knowledge that everyone was well aware that Desmond had stayed with him the night before, and that they were working together on what everyone was now calling the Lord Page case.

Now he shook hands warmly with Desmond, wondering how many people could see the pair of them from their windows.

‘It was very good of you and Karl to meet with the Kembers,’ he said smoothly. ‘And I think we’re really well on course now with the case.’

‘I hope so, Cassian,’ said Desmond. He gave Cassian a quizzical look. ‘I was talking about it with Karl this morning, and we both had to agree, it’s not the strongest case in the world. You’ll be doing very well to get half a million in damages. Very well indeed.’ He smiled kindly at Cassian, who felt a slight splinter of alarm in the base of his spine.

‘I’m quite confident,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve taken on board the points you made, and they’ll be dealt with.’

‘And you’re quite sure the parents will go through with it?’ Desmond put down his briefcase and felt in his pocket for his car keys. ‘Both Karl and I felt that they were … a little unprepared; that they might be reluctant to testify fully and convincingly on the damage done to their daughter …’ He raised his eyebrows.

‘They’ll be fine,’ replied Cassian quickly. ‘They just need a bit of time to get into it.’

‘Yes,’ said Desmond. ‘Time.’ He narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘Things seem to have moved extraordinarily rapidly in this case, Cassian. You didn’t put any pressure on the Kembers, did you? You didn’t hurry them at all?’

‘No!’ exclaimed Cassian at once. ‘Of course not. They were just anxious to get things going. For their daughter’s sake,’ he added.

‘Hmm,’ said Desmond, ‘I’m glad to hear it. Well, I’ll be following events with interest, and I’ll be very impressed if we succeed.’ He walked towards his car, then turned back. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware,’ he said, ‘this case could provide some good publicity for us. Acting successfully for the granddaughter of Lord Page can’t do us any harm.’ He opened his car door. ‘Some time,’ he added, ‘when you’re in London, perhaps we could have dinner together at my club. Perhaps we could even ask Lord Page to come along.’ He smiled at Cassian. ‘So long, Cassian.’

As Cassian watched Desmond driving off smoothly, he felt a confusing mixture of emotions. His initial sensation of triumphant exhilaration slowly dwindled into a curious down-hearted feeling. Did Desmond and Karl really think his case was weak? A sudden unwelcome vision popped into Cassian’s mind, of Desmond and Karl, gently laughing together at him. He scowled. He’d show them. He’d fucking well win this case; that would wipe the patronizing smile off Desmond’s face.

Suddenly there was a noise behind him, and Cassian’s secretary, Elaine, appeared at the top of the steps, carrying her handbag.

‘I thought I’d go for lunch,’ she said. ‘If that’s OK.’

‘Fine,’ said Cassian absently.

‘Has he gone, then?’ said Elaine. ‘That guy from London?’

‘Yes, he has,’ said Cassian. Elaine looked around and lowered her voice.

‘Has he offered you a flashy job in London?’ she said. ‘That’s what everyone’s saying.’ She lowered her voice further. ‘They’re all dead impressed.’

At her words, Cassian felt an expanding sensation of
pride. The heavy feeling around his heart released itself and vanished. It was paranoid, he told himself, to imagine that Desmond’s final smile had been anything but encouraging.

‘Well … you never know,’ he said impressively. ‘I’m afraid I can’t really talk about it.’

‘Gosh,’ said Elaine. She shifted her handbag strap on her shoulder and looked hopefully at Cassian for further scraps of information. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything more, she sighed. ‘Oh well,’ she said. ‘Shall I get you a sandwich while I’m out?’

‘No thanks,’ said Cassian. He wondered briefly whether to say, Lunch is for wimps, then decided against it. ‘I think today I’ll have lunch with Louise,’ he said instead.

Barnaby didn’t know what to do with himself. When Sylvia Seddon-Wilson had driven off, he stood quite still in the middle of the road, oblivious of passing cars, incapable of moving. His face was blank and his mouth was dry and a heavy pain had anchored itself in his stomach. An old woman passed by with her little dog, and he flinched, unable to meet her eye, or even move out of the way. He felt numb with shock; numb to the tiny flames of panic darting round the edges of his frozen mind; numb even to the incipient stirrings of a heavy looming guilt.

He had to find out more, he suddenly said to himself. He had to find out what had happened. He had to find out how Hugh was. His friend, Hugh, his old friend. The thought made him want to sit down on the pavement and bury his face in his hands, but instead, Barnaby took a deep desperate breath, and found himself beginning to walk. Without thinking, his steps began to take him in the direction of the Delaneys’ house. He had to find out how Hugh was, he thought desperately. He had to find out …

And then, like a slap, he remembered. He stopped still again. What was he thinking of, going to the Delaneys’ house? What was he thinking of? With a shudder he imagined Meredith shrieking at him, as she had at Louise. He imagined Ursula’s distraught face. Maybe even Hugh himself, discharged from hospital. He would look up, with an ill grey face … Maybe the sight of Barnaby would bring on another attack …