The Four of Us (24 page)

Her eye was caught by movement at the end of the quarter-mile long drive. A second later she recognized the caterer's van and, twenty yards or so behind it, the florist's van. Soon, Primmie, Artemis and Kiki would be arriving. Her day was beginning. The most wonderful, splendid,
joyous
day of her life.

‘But why isn't Kiki already here?' Artemis queried, smoothing the sophisticated silver-grey silk of her dress over hips that had once again become quite plump. ‘It's not long before we have to leave for the church.'

‘She'll be here,' Geraldine said confidently, refusing to let anything spoil the spellbinding pleasure of the feel of her grandmother's wedding dress against her skin.

‘But the two of you have fallen out, haven't you?' Artemis continued, fidgeting with her bouquet as Primmie adjusted Geraldine's veil. ‘What if she doesn't turn up?'

‘Of course she'll turn up.' Geraldine didn't know whether to be amused by Artemis's typical pessimism or annoyed. ‘Even Kiki wouldn't let a falling-out spoil my wedding day.'

With the veil adjusted, Primmie had stepped towards the window.

‘Is she coming yet, Primmie?' Artemis asked, still anxious. ‘Can you see her car?'

‘No, but I'm sure I just saw Simon's.' Primmie's face was radiant. ‘Perhaps he's dropping her off before he goes on to the church.'

Before she could rush to the door and run down downstairs and throw herself into his arms, Geraldine said, ‘Don't even think about it, Primmie. He'll crush your dress, muss your hair, ruin your lipstick. Wait till after the ceremony for your reunion.'

‘Excuse me?' Artemis was staring at them in stunned bewilderment. ‘Excuse me, but why would Kiki's father be mussing Primmie's hair and ruining her lipstick? What on earth is going on here? You're not telling me that Primmie and Kiki's father are … are …'

As she struggled for an appropriate, tasteful word, Geraldine's mother came into the bedroom.

‘Simon Lane has just called by to drop a wedding gift off. The vicar has telephoned to say that guests are already arriving. I didn't tell him that one of the bridesmaids still hasn't arrived here. What
is
Kiki thinking of? Doesn't she know that my nerves will be stretched to breaking point without her making matters worse by being late?'

The minute she'd gone, Artemis said, her eyes the size of gobstoppers, ‘Primmie Surtees! You're not telling me that you and Simon Lane are … are …'

‘Yes,' Primmie said, eyes shining as she put Artemis out of her misery. ‘And so you'll soon be a matron of honour again, Artemis.'

‘I don't believe it! I simply don't believe it!' Artemis sank down on the nearest chair, uncaring as to whether or not her dress would be creased. ‘Does Kiki know yet? And if you have me as your matron of honour, will you be having Kiki as a bridesmaid?'

Geraldine saved Primmie from answering a question she knew Primmie hadn't yet thought through. ‘
I
shan't be having her as a bridesmaid unless she arrives here pretty quickly,' she said, noting the time on the bedside clock. ‘And once it's two o'clock, if she's not here, I shall leave for the church without her. Brides are allowed to be late. Bridesmaids are not.'

The next person to burst in on them was Francis's father.

Geraldine stared at him in bewilderment. ‘Why haven't you left for the church, Uncle Piers? Shouldn't you and Francis be there by now?'

‘I've just come
back
from the church. His best man and the ushers are there – and so are many of the guests – but he isn't. I thought he might have called by here.'

‘But why should he? We're trying to follow tradition. We're not to see each other today until we meet at the altar.'

With a snort of exasperation, her uncle stomped back downstairs.

After a moment's awkward silence, Primmie said, ‘I shouldn't worry about Francis not being at the church yet. He's like Kiki. He can sometimes be terribly badly organized unless he has someone chivvying him all the time.'

Geraldine, acutely aware of just how much she organized things for Francis, bit back any sort of comment. Leaving for the church cross at Francis was absolutely not in her plans. There were still twenty minutes to go before it was two o'clock. By then Francis would be there. And if, when she arrived, Kiki wasn't part of her entourage, then that was something Kiki would just have to live with. She wasn't going to let Kiki's mean-spirited behaviour spoil her day. She wasn't going to let
anything
spoil her day.

The telephone on the bedside table rang. Primmie, who was standing the nearest to it, answered it.

‘It's Kiki,' she said with blinding relief, passing the receiver to Geraldine.

‘Hi, Kiki.' With difficulty, Geraldine kept her voice unstressed. ‘Where are you? Have you got stuck in traffic in the village?'

‘I'm not in the village, Geraldine.'

The minute she heard the timbre of Kiki's voice, Geraldine knew she would be going down the aisle without her. Kiki had been smoking dope. A lot of dope.

‘Where are you?' she asked, fighting a disappointment she knew would take a long time to recover from.

‘I'm in Rome. I'm starting a series of concerts here this coming week.'

‘Great,' she said, not thinking that it was great at all. ‘And I'm about to get married. An occasion you seem to have forgotten about.'

‘No, I hadn't forgotten. I just can't manage to be there.'

There wasn't an ounce of apology or regret in Kiki's voice and Geraldine sucked in her breath, stunned by her rudeness.

‘And, perhaps more importantly, Francis can't manage to be there, either.'

For a second Geraldine didn't take on board what she was saying and then, so that there could be no possible mistake, Kiki said, ‘Francis is with me in Rome. We may get married, we may not. Sorry, Geraldine.'

The line went dead, and for a paralysing, stupefying moment Geraldine continued to stand, the telephone receiver still in her hand. As if from a far distance, she heard Primmie say, ‘What's the matter, Geraldine? Has Kiki been delayed? Is she not going to get here?'

Not answering her, not turning her head, she dropped the receiver like a stone and, with a howl that was primeval, flung herself headlong on to the bed, sobbing and sobbing for the love she had lost and the future she would now never have.

It was a moment Primmie knew she would never forget. A moment when life, for all four of them, changed, never to be the same again.

Geraldine's mother, white faced, informed the guests assembled at the church that the wedding would not be taking place. A doctor was called and Geraldine was given a sedative that did little to ease her grief and rage. Francis's father aged visibly as he took on board the consequences of his son's action. Artemis gave way to hysterics and she, Primmie, struggled to comprehend what the repercussions of Kiki's monstrous behaviour were going to be.

Not, in a million years, could she envisage Kiki and Francis as a happily married couple. They were both too selfish, thoughtless and reckless. Francis needed Geraldine for the stability she gave him and to take from his shoulders all responsibility where Cedar Court was concerned. It was a responsibility Kiki would most certainly never take on. Responsibility, of any kind, was not in Kiki's vocabulary.

Hard on the heels of the realization that Francis had destroyed Geraldine's happiness – and his own – for a relationship Primmie was sure would be shallow and short-lived, was the devastating realization that she was going to have to tell Simon exactly why the ceremony had been called off. So far, none of the bewildered guests had been given any details. Simon, however, was going to have to be told – and she would have to do the telling.

It was going to be a hideous start to their reunion and, as the sedative given to Geraldine began to take hold and Artemis slid her white satin pumps from her feet and covered her, still in her wedding dress, with an eiderdown, Primmie left the room and made her way downstairs with a heavy heart.

He was still at the church, as were lots of other guests. Whereas they were milling in groups in the churchyard, speculation rife as to why the bridegroom hadn't shown up, he was leaning against the lychgate, his legs crossed at the ankle, his arms folded.

It was so long since she had seen him, over three weeks, that despite all the shock and distress and anger that she was feeling, her heart leaped with joy at the sight of him.

‘Simon!
Simon
!' Her slim-fitting, ankle-length bridesmaids'dress made running difficult, but she ran all the same, hurtling towards him, registering with a stab of shock how deeply unhappy he looked.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he uncrossed his arms. She threw herself into them, certain that somehow he knew about Kiki and Francis.

‘You've been told?' she gasped. ‘Isn't it terrible? Isn't it absolutely awful?' The tears she'd been holding back began streaming down her cheeks. ‘I've missed you so much, Simon, and now, when everything should be so wonderful for Geraldine and Francis – and for you and for me – it's just all so … so …'

She couldn't think of a word that would sum up her feelings. Geraldine's life was ruined. Though it was just conceivable that Geraldine might, one day, get over losing Francis, she could envisage no scenario where Geraldine would get over losing Cedar Court and of not having her child inherit it.

With all her heart she now wanted to tell Simon about
their
child, about the baby she was expecting, but it was news for a joyous moment and the present one, filled with grief at Kiki's wanton and treacherous behaviour, was not remotely suitable.

She felt him gently touch her hair and, as she raised her tear-streaked face to his, she saw, with a fresh slam of shock, that he was looking completely bewildered.

‘What's happened?' he asked quietly, his face still looking oddly harrowed. ‘Has there been an accident?'

‘No.' She took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Kiki phoned Geraldine at twenty minutes to two to tell her that she was in Rome and that Francis was with her. She said that they might get married, or they might not. And then she rang off.'

‘Dear Christ!' Since the moment he'd put his arms round her he hadn't been leaning against the lychgate. Now he tottered back against it, his face ashen. ‘Dear Christ,' he whispered again, devoutly. ‘How could she
do
such a thing? When did their relationship begin? Why was it
she
who telephoned Geraldine, and not Francis?'

He was no longer holding her. With his back to the gate, his hands were clamped on to it as if, were he to let go, he would fall.

‘I don't know, darling.' Some last remaining thread of loyalty to the friend she had grown up with as a sister prevented her from saying what she felt in her heart – that Kiki hadn't so much taken Francis from Geraldine because she wanted him as a long-term lover or husband, but because she wanted him to manage her career.

‘I need a drink.' He looked ghastly and, remembering how he always felt personally responsible whenever Kiki behaved badly, she wasn't surprised.

Wiping tears from her cheeks, she was just about to suggest that they go back to Cedar Court so that she could change out of her bridesmaid's dress and he could get the drink he so obviously needed, when he said, ‘And I need to talk to you, Primmie. It's no use my putting if off because this has happened.'

‘Putting what off?'

A joker of a wedding guest, cheated of throwing his confetti on Geraldine and Francis, had emptied his box of confetti into the air and the light breeze was now blowing it towards them. She could see it settling on Simon's hair and feel it on her own.

He let go of the gate and took hold of her hands. ‘It's over between us, Primmie,' he said tautly. ‘It has to be. Our being apart has given me plenty of time to think and I'd be doing you a great disservice if I married you. The age difference is too great. There'd be ugly talk. You lived in my home as a child and the gossip … the gossip would be horrendous.'

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. Flakes of confetti settled on her mouth and her eyelashes. The blood was drumming in her ears so loudly she thought she was going to faint.

‘But I love you!' she managed at last, her voice cracking and breaking. ‘I don't care about the age difference! I've never cared!'

‘I know.' Very carefully he let go of her hands. ‘But I care, Primmie. I'm sorry, darling. It won't work and I should have seen that it wouldn't far earlier. You'll get over me, just as Geraldine will eventually get over losing Francis.'

‘But I won't! How can I possibly ever get over you when … when …' She choked on the words she was about to say, knowing that if she told him about the baby he would feel duty-bound to marry her. And she didn't want him to marry her out of a sense of duty. She wanted him to marry her because he loved her deeply; because he couldn't envisage life without her – as she couldn't envisage life without him. ‘… When I love you so much,' she finished, fighting back the sobs that clutched at her throat.

‘You're twenty-one,' he said gently. ‘When you're twenty-one, life goes on. You'll find happiness with someone else, Primmie dearest. Someone your own age. Someone who, like you, will want children. I'm too old to begin parenting again. Kiki …' He winced with pain. ‘Kiki is as much as I can cope with.'

‘What will you do?' she whispered, wondering how she was going to live with her hurt, wishing that the ground would stop tilting so crazily.

He took a deep breath and braced his shoulders. ‘First, I'm going to fly out to Rome and speak to Kiki. It won't make any difference to what has happened, but when realization dawns as to just how monstrously she has behaved, she's going to need someone – and when she does, she won't be able to call on her friends, because she's lost them, hasn't she? I can't imagine Geraldine ever wanting to see her or speak to her again, and neither you nor Artemis are going to be lending her a shoulder to cry on over this, are you?'