The House of Vandekar (34 page)

‘All right, all right, Diana, just stay calm. I'll suggest it to Fern. I don't know how I'm going to explain it, but I'll think of something. I'll call you. Yes, tonight. No, for Christ's sake, I can't come over, I'm in the middle of some work! I didn't mean to be nasty, darling, of course I didn't … Don't worry. I'll manage it.'

He hung up. He was sorry he'd lost his temper for a moment. She was more demanding than she realized. She didn't seem to understand he mustn't be rung up and interrupted and pleaded with to come and see her. But she was frantic with anxiety. Of course she turned to him, needed him. He felt selfish and guilty. It would help divert attention from her and from Richard if he and Fern and the children were there. The sooner that wimp blew the gaffe on himself and let Diana off the hook the better! He focused his frustration on Richard. He tried to work for the next hour but his concentration was broken. He cleaned his brushes, closed up the studio and went home.

‘Fern, I've an idea. Why do we have to wait to collect the kids till the weekend? Why don't we go down tomorrow and be there when they come back?'

‘Oh, for God's sake,' Fern sighed irritably. ‘When I suggested doing exactly that you said no, wait till Friday, I've got to finish the Leader picture. It's already behind schedule. So I made dates for this week and I can't possibly break them. I've two lunches and we've accepted a dinner tomorrow night.' She looked up at him and said, ‘Why the change? It's only two days. Normally you make a performance about going down anyway.'

‘I've missed the kids,' he said. ‘You have too, I know. Never mind what I said. Let's scrap the dinner and the lunches. I won't finish the picture anyway. It's not been going right.'

‘Oh? You didn't say so. Look, Brian, if you're worried about it and you want to see the children, Mother can send them up in the car. Why don't we do that? Then nothing has to be cancelled.'

He was caught. He tried to turn it round. ‘Don't you want to go? You haven't seen your parents for nearly two months. They'd be pretty hurt just being asked to send the kids back by car. Come on, darling, let's do it. Tomorrow. Let's turn up and surprise everyone.'

It was unusual for him to insist. She didn't know what to make of it. The twins had spent three weeks in France, along with Nancy, who was the real reason they had been invited. Fern wasn't fooled. Her mother tolerated the two little ones and Hugo liked them well enough, but it was Richard's child she wanted. And, to keep the peace, she had asked the twins as well. Fern thought her husband looked tired and ill at ease. It must be the painting. It was a very important commission. It had been going so well until recently. He had been quiet and withdrawn when he came home from the studio. That was unusual too. He was a gregarious man, outgoing and volatile. Fern was used to that. She understood and tempered her own needs to his artistic nature. To her, his work was all-important. ‘Would it help if you got out of London, then? Is that what you think? Would it help to get your ideas in focus again?'

She never failed in her support. He had long taken her compliance for granted. At that moment he felt ashamed and guilty, but he went on to take advantage of it. ‘Yes, it would. I'd like to get away.'

‘Then we'll go,' Fern said. ‘You look worn out. Have an early night. I'll get you a drink.'

‘Glass of beer,' he said. ‘Thanks. Thanks, love.' He sat there feeling contemptible. But he found a chance to slip upstairs and make a rapid call to Diana. ‘It's OK. We'll be there.' He rang off before she could start a conversation.

It was a smooth flight back. Hugo was in good spirits. He looked brown and rested. Alice, careful of her complexion, was slightly tanned. The twins were brown as toast and, thankfully, sitting three rows back with their nanny to keep them amused. It was a very tiring age. Nancy was sitting with Lily, who hated flying and wouldn't sit near the window because it made her nervous to look out and see clouds floating by. She was happy to look after Nancy. It took her mind off the unnatural condition of being 30,000 feet above the ground. Nancy had a sore throat and a slight fever. Lily read to her till she dozed off.

The usual fleet of cars was waiting at heathrow. Hugo's Rolls and chauffeur, the Rover with one of the young footmen as driver for Lily, Nanny and the children, and the estate car for their luggage.

‘Oh, won't it be nice to be home!' Alice exclaimed.

Hugo smiled slightly. ‘That's a sure sign of a good holiday,' he said. ‘It will be nice to get back.'

The cavalcade set off for Ashton as it had done so many times before. There wasn't a cloud in the sky.

7

Fern was delighted to have her children back. In contrast to Alice, she was strongly maternal. The weather was glorious, her father in a happy mood, so benevolent that he was even nice to Richard. Her brother looked awful, shrunken and pasty. It must have been a frightful bug to run him down like that.

Diana fluttered round him. They spent a lot of time in their own quarters, and Alice had decreed that Nancy must move into the main corridor and stay in the Print Room until she was better. Richard mustn't be exposed to any new infection. That irritated Fern because she knew how Alice doted on the child. She never went in to read or play games with the twins if they weren't well. But these were only pinpricks. She was glad she'd done what Brian suggested. He was still very tense, but if the picture was not coming quite right, it was only natural.

We've been having a bad patch lately, she thought, waking beside him. Everyone does sooner or later. It'll be over soon. And God, I do love him. She woke him to make love. He didn't respond. He stirred and turned over, mumbling about being tired. He pretended to be asleep. Fern knew he was pretending. She lay very still and after a time the tears began to seep down her face. They hadn't slept together for nearly three weeks. The fever of their first years had settled into a routine; they still took pleasure in each other, though she suspected her feelings were stronger than his. But he had never rejected her before. She felt degraded, not only by the refusal but the pretence that went with it. Something was wrong. Not just the strain of his work. It had never stopped him wanting to make love before. She didn't go to sleep again. She stayed beside him and listened to the fake deep breathing until the maid brought their morning tea.

She took the twins for a long walk. Brian didn't offer to come with her. She brooded; she nursed her humiliation. She said nothing; nor did he. But she watched him that night. They were in the library having a drink before dinner. She watched him with her mother, stung as always by their friendly intimacy. They were laughing at some joke and it grated on her nerves. She watched him with Richard, and was surprised at his antagonism. He had never thought much of him, but he was now positively hostile. It was like squaring up to a corpse for all the animation her brother showed. I bet he'd cheer up if someone offered him a drink, Fern thought acidly. He'd been off it for a long time now. Amazing. She hadn't expected or hoped it would last. Diana had a new dress. Very flattering, very expensive. Sea-green chiffon, with a short skirt that showed too much leg. And the Vandekar brooch blazing away on one shoulder. That should have been mine, Fern mused. I know Daddy wanted me to have it. Mother would give it to her, of course, just to please Richard. She makes me sick with that little girl act when she's been sleeping around all over the place. She even simpers round Daddy but he doesn't fall for it. I wonder who she's having it off with now …

Fern had been watching Diana without real interest. She avoided the sight of Brian deep in conversation with Alice. Alice got up – she was saying something to Richard. Casually Diana crossed the room. Fern watched her idly. She took a seat close to Brian. Everyone was occupied. Hugo half turned away from them. Alice perched beside her son, Fern herself sunk back in a big armchair.

Diana reached one arm across, lightly, carelessly, and Fern saw her fingers caress the back of her husband's neck. He didn't move away. He sat there while she fondled him in secret, drawing her long painted nails across the nape, just above the collar. ‘Who is she having it off with now?' The question screamed in her head, no longer a malicious speculation.

And she had the answer. The erotic touch, and his acceptance of it. She had stroked him like that herself. Brian. Her husband and Diana. For a few seconds the room spun. The walls of books whirled round and round and the talk became a distorted hum. Fern had never fainted in her life, but for a moment it was very close.

‘Fern?' She heard her father's voice. He was looking down to her. ‘A little more sherry? It's rather good, I think.'

‘Yes.' She forced herself to speak – it sounded strange. ‘Yes, I'd love some. Thank you, Daddy darling.'

She was steady again. No crisis, no dramatic scene. She was shaking all over, and she drank the sherry quickly. Hugo was close by. She wished he'd move. She couldn't see them. Imagination. A trick of the eye. Diana was in view now, bending over Richard, murmuring some inquiry. Pretending to care, Fern thought. She wasn't near Brian, not looking at anyone but her husband. But Brian was looking at her. Watching her. No, Fern's heightened intuition argued, watching over her. I must hold on, she told herself. I must stay calm and make absolutely sure. I may be wrong, I may be seeing things that aren't there. I'm upset after what happened this morning. She smooches round every man. But she caressed his neck – I didn't imagine that. It's him I've got to watch.

Alice came up to her son. She was shocked at how frail and low he seemed. He'd better see a specialist in London. For a moment she and Diana looked at each other over his head. She was furtive, ill at ease. Alice knew what that look betokened. Another squalid liaison no doubt. So long as Richard didn't know, wasn't affected. She closed her mind and said to him, ‘I'm going to feed you up, darling. You've got far too thin. It's such a good thing Diana brought you down to recuperate. A nice holiday would do you good.'

‘We're going to Portugal next month,' he said. Alice had taken his hand. Poor Mum. Di was quite right. It would break her heart if she knew the truth. ‘Di found a super hotel. How's Nancy?'

‘Better. I went up to see her before dinner,' Alice said. ‘It's just a bit of tonsilitis. It's easy to get it in France when it's so hot. Probably the damned pool. She'll be fine in a couple of days. Don't worry about her. I'll take care of her.'

He looked up at her. He squeezed her hand. Tears came into his eyes. ‘You take care of all of us,' he said.

Dinner was announced.

On Sunday it was raining. Hugo went to morning service. Fern said she would like to go too. He was pleased but surprised. She usually went with her children and Brian to the local Catholic church in the village.

Diana said, ‘I've never been to a Catholic service. What's it like? It's in Latin, isn't it?'

‘It's been in English for years,' Brian answered. ‘It's a nice little church.'

‘Could I come?' Diana asked. ‘It might be interesting to see. If Fern's not going with you?' She looked across at Fern.

‘I'm going with my father,' she said shortly. ‘He always goes by himself.' Alice was not in the room so it was safe to say that.

‘Mum's an atheist,' Richard spoke up. ‘Why should she go? It'd only be humbug.'

He was less lethargic, more alert. Or rather tense. Diana knew the signs. Sooner or later he'd break out. She didn't want to think about that. She wanted to be with Brian, to be alone with him. Perhaps they could slip away after this mass or whatever it was …

Guests were coming to lunch. Fern sat through the church service beside Hugo. She wondered if he ever prayed. She knew he felt it was a duty to attend service now and again. He read the lesson that Sunday.

St Paul to the Corinthians, Chapter 2, verses 12 to 19. She didn't hear a word. Diana and Brian. Three days of agony, watching him, watching her. Seeing the intimate looks pass between them, quickly veiled, but not quickly enough. The way Diana contrived to touch him at every opportunity. Brushing against him with a smile, resting her fingertips on his arm to emphasize something that didn't warrant it. Gazing at him with her limpid eyes, oozing sexuality as an octopus clouds the seas with ink. An octopus, Fern thought, hating her as she had never believed it possible to hate anyone. So powerfully that at times she felt choked with it, unable to breathe. An octopus with tendrils creeping, touching, entwining, devouring …

And Brian. Brian, whom she'd defied her father to marry, whom she'd supported and promoted and cherished because she believed in his genius. Who had held her hand as she gave birth to their twins, given her confidence in herself, love and feverish desire in those early years together. He was drugged with the creature. He couldn't take his eyes away from her, he was besotted enough to be almost careless. Fern hated him too, but it was a cruel mixture of love and jealousy as well.

She had gone with Hugo to the service for a purpose. In the car on the way back to Ashton she said she had to talk to him alone. After lunch, he suggested. Their guests wouldn't stay too long. They could have a chat then. Was it something serious, he added. She hadn't looked or seemed herself for the last few days.

‘I think it's serious,' she said slowly. ‘You're the only person in the world I can tell. And even you probably can't help me.'

They arrived at the house before he could ask any more questions.

Lily was in her sewing room. She was so glad to be back, out of that awful boiling sunshine. The food didn't agree with her either, and whatever was wrong with the water? You couldn't get a decent cup of tea. She was mending one of Alice's beautiful silk nightdresses, attaching a lace flounce with tiny stitches. Alice could still wear lingerie she had bought for her trousseau in 1934, she had kept her figure so well. Lily was proud of that. She knew what suited her lady and said so. Alice would tell her to shut up, but she seldom wore anything twice that Lily didn't like.