The House of Vandekar (35 page)

None of them was a patch on her, Lily considered. That daughter couldn't hold a candle to her, even though she spent a fortune on clothes and painted herself up. Funny, when you remember what a ragbag she was when she was a girl. Diana had the looks but she was a tart and, in Lily's opinion, it showed. No dignity, no presence. She might have a family going back to Agincourt, but she was as much a little tart as any girl standing around Piccadilly in the old days. Lily knew all about her. She'd seen her giving sly glances at a good-looking young footman once. It had made her sick.

Poor Richard. She would always think of him as the golden child she'd helped to bring up. He was a ruin now. Lily knew what drink could do – she'd seen it in friends and neighbours of her own family. It wasn't called a demon for nothing. But she didn't blame him. She blamed his wife. She'd driven him to it. He should have given her a good hiding and kicked her out the first time she had been caught and all that scandal had broken over the family. Mr Hugo stopped it. He wanted his Cabinet job and he didn't care if his son and her lady broke their hearts. Lily would never forgive him for that. It wouldn't go on for ever. She'd slip up and bring them all into the dirt again.

Lily came out of the sewing room to put the nightdress back in Alice's bedroom. She was a very quiet woman; she didn't make a noise when she moved about. She saw them in the corridor but they didn't see her. They were going into one of the empty bedrooms and shutting the door.

The nightdress slipped out of her hands. She stood there, so shocked she couldn't move. Diana and Brian Kiernan. ‘Christ Almighty,' Lily whispered. Alice was out walking. Hugo and Fern were at church. Richard was reading the papers in bed. They had gone off with the twins, Lily had seen them. And come back early. She went back inside, picking up the nightdress, and closed the door. This would bring the family to total ruin.

‘It's him, isn't it?' Richard said.

‘Darling, please! I don't know what you're talking about!'

‘Don't try to kid me, Di. I know you. I can tell by him too. You're really shitting on your own doorstep this time. And
don't
try to say I'm drunk. I'm not. Not yet anyway.'

‘Why do you
say
that! You know how Brian's helped us.'

After the lunch party Richard had suddenly insisted on going out in the drizzling rain for a walk. Once out of earshot, he had rounded on her.

He's seen us, was her first thought. He must have done. She didn't know what to do but stand her ground and lie.

‘He's helped you, you mean, and I know why. He treated me like shit in that bloody home. Told me he'd smash my face in if I came out and got pissed again.'

Diana went pale. ‘I didn't know that,' she said. ‘He shouldn't have done that …'

‘It's bad enough my sister marrying a yob like him, but you … Di, how could you? How could you do this to me?'

She hung her head. The rain was getting heavy. Her hair was soaked and sticking to her head, the drops running down into her collar.

‘I was desperate,' she said. ‘Scared of your mother and what she'd do. You'd been missing for two days. I called him. I couldn't trust anyone else.'

He went on walking. She followed, pulling at his arm. ‘You'll catch a cold,' she said. ‘Come back, you're getting wet through.'

‘I didn't know the others,' he went on, dragging her with him. ‘I didn't know the bugger in Knightsbridge, and I must have met Hubbard but I couldn't put a face to him. I don't know any of the others. There must have been hundreds. They ought to make a film of your life, darling. A hundred men a night. But I know this one. Right under my bloody nose with my lout of a brother-in-law.' He stopped abruptly and wrenched away from her. They stood facing each other in the downpour. ‘I think I've had enough. I think I've come to the end of my rope.'

‘Dick,' she cried out. ‘Dick, don't say that … Please!'

He walked on without answering.

She stood and let the rain drench her to the skin. He'd never said that before. He'd got drunk and accused her, but they'd ended clinging to each other in tears like the lost souls they were. He hadn't said anything for so long. She'd forgotten to be careful when he was there. Brian hadn't been careful either.

She ran after him but he had gone inside and locked himself into the bathroom by the time she got upstairs. She banged on the door and pleaded. She heard the water running, but he wouldn't answer. She stripped off her wet clothes and went to the twins' bathroom to soak in a hot bath herself. He didn't mean it. He couldn't. But she had to warn Brian. She had to see him that night.

Hugo sat down. He felt suddenly old and his leg ached.

‘How far do you think this has gone?' he asked.

‘I don't know,' Fern answered. ‘Daddy, didn't you notice, even going to the church with him this morning?'

‘I did think it was odd,' he admitted. ‘But I thought it was the sort of stupid, childish thing she would do, to call attention to herself. You're sure you're not imagining this?'

She dropped down beside him. ‘No,' she said with the unhappiest sigh he had ever heard. ‘I'm not imagining. He's not been his normal self for some time. He's home late, he's offhand with me – he says it's his new picture, but I don't believe him. I've seen the way they look at each other. She's always pawing him. There's something between them, I know there is!'

‘I thought she seemed very shifty ever since we got back,' Hugo remarked. After a pause he said, ‘I didn't connect it with Brian. Don't be proud with me, Fern. I love you and all I want to do is sort this out. Do you think they're sleeping together?'

She bit her lip, but it was no use. She couldn't help crying.

He slipped his arm round her and held her close.

‘He doesn't want to sleep with me,' she mumbled. ‘I think he's been with her behind my back. I don't want to lose him, Daddy. I can't lose him.'

He let her cry, giving silent comfort. He had never been so angry for years. How dare he! How dare Brian make Fern unhappy. Only the dregs of a Dublin slum would sink so low with his own sister-in-law. As for
her
, she should be locked up in a home.

‘The twins,' Fern sobbed. ‘How could he!'

Hugo said slowly, ‘You don't want a divorce if it is true? You're prepared to forgive him?'

He hoped she'd say no. He hoped she'd admit at last that the marriage had been a dreadful mistake.

But she didn't. She looked at him with fresh tears falling and said simply, ‘I won't lose him. I won't ever let him go. I couldn't face it.'

He had learned to accept the inevitable. He loved her too much to do more than regret her lack of pride.

‘Help me,' she begged him. ‘Get rid of her.

‘My darling,' he said gently. ‘I think the time has come when we must do just that. Now, don't cry any more, and don't say anything about this to anyone. I'll deal with it.'

Alice was dressing for dinner. Hugo insisted on changing – even on Sunday. She stood while Lily fastened her into a billowing silk blouse that buttoned up the back.

‘There's something funny going on,' Alice announced.

Lily went on slotting buttons into their holes.

‘There's an atmosphere you could cut with a knife.'

‘Is there?' Lily muttered from behind.

Alice watched her reflection in the mirror. ‘Diana and Richard aren't speaking. She's been trying but he just turns away. I've never seen them row before. Then she comes and says could she sleep near Nancy tonight as she's not very well.'

‘Well,' Lily hid her reaction, ‘that's not odd, is it?'

‘I think so,' Alice retorted. ‘She didn't leave Richard when Nancy was really ill with whooping cough. This is an excuse. For God's sake, haven't you done me up yet?' She was impatient, tapping one foot under the long skirt. Lily never fiddled normally. What was the matter with her?

‘Sir Hugo looks like thunder, and Fern is as miserable as sour milk. I wish they'd all damned well go home!'

‘There, that's the last one,' Lily declared. ‘It's Monday tomorrow,' she said. ‘Nanny told me the twins were going home, so
they'll
be gone too.' She couldn't bear to look her mistress in the face. That Irishman, sneaking off with his own sister-in-law … it was as good as incest, in Lily's eyes. And to betray her lady, after how good she'd been to him when he was just a penniless nothing … She felt rage so bitter that there was bile in her throat. Dirt, both of them. Sleeping near Nancy, was she? To be able to sneak out and meet him …

‘Lily,' Alice said, ‘Lily, what's the matter with you tonight?'

I'll never tell her, Lily thought. She's had enough to bear. She'll find out soon enough, God help her.

She put on her stolid look, which Alice knew meant obstinancy. ‘Nothing,' she said. ‘Bit of a headache.'

‘Then take an aspirin,' Alice snapped, knowing it wasn't true. ‘Look at the time. You'll have to wait up and get me out of this damned blouse. I won't be late.'

She hurried out and down the stairs. She met Hugo limping ahead of her. He had refused to have a lift installed.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs. ‘Alice, come in here a moment. I've got something to tell you.'

She followed him into his study. He closed the door. She frowned uneasily. ‘What's the matter? Something wrong?'

‘Very wrong, I'm afraid,' he said.

She saw the bloodless look and knew that he was very angry. ‘What is it?'

He sat on the edge of an armchair. ‘Diana and Brian,' he said. Alice gasped. ‘What? Hugo! You don't mean …'

‘I'm surprised you haven't noticed,' he remarked. ‘You're usually so astute.'

‘I don't believe it,' she said. She turned away from him. ‘They couldn't. They couldn't do such a thing.'

‘Why not?' He sounded acid. ‘She is a degenerate. We both know that. And he's a guttersnipe who's no business in this family in the first place.'

‘How do you know this?' Alice demanded. ‘Did Fern tell you?'

‘She came to me this afternoon. Things haven't been going well between them. She thinks Diana is at the back of it, and I believe her. She thinks it's been going on for some time.'

‘Oh,' Alice said, ‘oh my God. Hugo, are you sure she's right? She's always been a jealous girl. Are you certain she's not imagining this? I haven't noticed anything – you said as much yourself …'

‘You haven't been looking,' he reminded her. ‘Nor had I. One doesn't expect to step into a heap of dog mess, so one doesn't look down. I have been watching them and I'm convinced that Fern is right. Diana is just a little careless at times. Not as deceitful as she used to be when she was up to something. She doesn't think we'd suspect. Brian is not very subtle at his best. He follows her round like a dog after a bitch on heat.'

The crudity disgusted Alice. She grimaced. ‘You don't have to talk like that,' she said.

‘I'm sorry. I know how fastidious you are about these things. But I'm not thinking about you, Alice. I'm thinking about Fern and the hell she's going through.'

‘So am I,' she answered. ‘And Richard. He looks so ill. They've been quarrelling. I noticed that. If anything starts him drinking again …'

‘It would be this,' he finished it for her. ‘And then your wrath would fall on her, wouldn't it, my dear?'

‘It would,' Alice said. ‘What are we going to do?'

‘I know what must be done,' he said. ‘I'm just considering the method. She's not going to ruin Fern's life.'

‘She's already ruined our son's,' she said slowly. ‘Hugo, have you got a drink in here? I don't know how I'm going in to face them and sit down to dinner.'

‘I keep a drop of whisky,' he said.

Alice looked up at him. For the first time he noticed lines on her face that hadn't been there before.

Suddenly she said, ‘I wish to God she was dead.'

‘So do I.' He gave her a drink and took one for himself. ‘But I don't think God is going to oblige us. Between us, we'll think of a solution. And whatever Fern says, I shall do my utmost to persuade her to get rid of
him
. Now, if you're ready, we'd better put a face on it and join them all.'

It seemed to Alice like the stage set in a play. The green and gold panelled dining room, lit by picture lights and candles. Silver sparkling on the table. Two liveried footmen on duty. A huge arrangement of chrysanthemums between the windows, bronze and gold and splashed with yellow.

The men in the family in smoking jackets, Brian in a polo-necked silk sweater. Fern in a mauve and silver kaftan, Diana ethereal in a clinging pale blue jersey dress. Wealth and health and beauty. The old toast came into her mind and it was like a curse. We sit here, playing the charade in front of each other, Hugo commenting on the wine, Fern pretending to eat and watching her husband and his lover under lowered lids. The guilty ones, trying not to glance too often, not able to resist a little smile across the table. Her son, her darling son, for whom she had hoped so much, sitting so close to her that she could have reached out and touched him, drinking the glass of water and trying not to follow the wine with his eyes as it passed him by. He was different that night. Edgy, irritable. The sad dejection had passed and, whatever the reason, Alice was glad for that at least. He had always, even in the worst times of his addiction, gazed with dependence on his wife, as if she were some kind of talisman. But no longer. Alice thought she saw a gleam of hatred when he looked across the table at Diana. But maybe not. Maybe, Alice thought, I'm seeing what I want to see. If only he didn't care about her. If only he could break the cycle of drink and guilt and infidelity that has destroyed him … She'll destroy that other fool, that talented fool who doesn't see through her. Hugo hates him and blames him, but it is old hatred and old blame that is only enhanced by being justified. Alice had to learn to hate him too, and she found she couldn't. It was a shock to Hugo to discover that Brian had fallen in love with someone else. But not to Alice. I pity her, she thought, catching a brief glance from Fern. But not as much as I should. Because I'd rather have Brian than her, in spite of everything. Brian would be ruined. Hugo's influence spread well beyond the sphere of politics and business. He was a patron of the arts, a man of such wealth that nobody wanted to offend him. He would pursue Brian Kiernan with remorseless vindictiveness because he had betrayed Fern. She heard Diana laugh. Such a pretty laugh, full of gaiety. I brought her into this family, she thought, remembering the little girl who had come to play with Richard because Alice was sorry she had missed his birthday party.