The Piper's Tune (51 page)

It would be a wonderful revenge, a triumph as thoroughly demeaning as any that Forbes could possibly devise – except that she would never be able to bring herself to go through with it. She had to pull back, not to protect Forbes or save face for the Franklins but for Tom's sake; Sylvie was Tom's daughter and Cissie was Tom's wife and all three would be terribly damaged by the scandal of a prolonged and public divorce.

White-faced and shocked, Cissie had stammered, ‘Do you believe her?'

‘Of course I believe her,' Lindsay had answered.

‘Oh, God! Oh, dear God! I wish Pappy were still with us,' Cissie had said, wringing her plump hands. ‘Pappy would know what to do.'

‘Are you implying that I don't know what to do?'

‘You?' Cissie had said. ‘But you're – you're the wife.'

‘That isn't a fatal condition, Cissie, or one that precludes me from making my own decisions. As it so happens, I do know what to do.'

‘What?'

‘You'll see,' Lindsay had answered. ‘Wait a little while, dearest, then, believe me, you'll see.'

*   *   *

Forbes had come home late, long after his mother and sisters had gone to bed. Lindsay had taken herself upstairs to the nursery after supper to give Philip his nightly feed then she had gone directly into the master bedroom to make ready.

Below, in the piano parlour, Eleanor waited for Mr Arthur.

He had been tempted by naval hospitality and had dined with the officers at the Coventry. It had been a jovial party and, as it happened, not at all awkward. Lieutenant Commander Paget had been present at the start of the proceedings but he had been called away to answer the telephone and, after making apologies to Commander Coles, had left the company soon after.

Much as he liked the English officer Arthur had not been sorry to see him go. He was aware of the delicate relationship that existed between his daughter and Geoffrey Paget – how could he not be? – but he was prepared to take Eleanor's word for it that there was nothing sinister in the friendship and that when Geoffrey left Glasgow in a week's time that would be an end of it. Even so, the tension between Forbes and Geoffrey Paget had been palpable throughout the day and Arthur could not entirely relax until Paget had gone.

Forbes and he had travelled home together on the last train. He had to put up with the young man's infernal, slightly tipsy, bragging about the superiority of the
Snark
over anything that the Germans had built, as if he, Forbes, had contributed more to the building of the underwater craft than the settling of contracts for basic materials and a few specialised castings. They changed trains at Dalmuir, disembarked on the deserted platform at Partick West and walked home from there.

The air had cooled but a long afterglow lingered in the western sky, mingling with the smoke from Clydeside furnaces and the faint, feeble glare from those yards that were fortunate enough to be operating a night shift. Tram-cars heading along Dumbarton Road to the depot threw out quick, clicking echoes that pealed away down sober side streets and rose tentatively into the heights of Brunswick Park. The trees in the little piece of park were motionless in the papery light of the gas lamps by the time Arthur and his son-in-law reached home and it seemed that the whole of the crescent was already fast asleep.

Any rapport that had existed between Arthur and his son-in-law dwindled as they climbed the steps to the front door. Neither man dared ring the doorbell for fear of waking the children and Forbes was first to find his key. He let himself in first, turned, muttered, ‘Goodnight,' and headed off up the staircase to his portion of the house. Relieved that the long, arduous day was finally over, Arthur opened the door of the parlour and peeped in.

‘Ah, Eleanor,' he said, ‘
you're
still up, I see.'

‘I am, Mr Arthur,' Eleanor answered him. ‘Unfortunately, I am.'

*   *   *

Forbes went first to the lavatory and relieved himself. The walk from the station had cleared his head, leaving pleasant memories of the long day on the sea loch, the stimulation of travelling underwater and the triumph of browbeating Paget and forcing him to retreat. He was sure he had got his message over and that Paget had left the party early because he was too cowardly to stay for dinner.

He paused on the landing, glanced up into the gloomy well of the nursery floor where, all snug and secure, his children slept. Then he opened the door of the master bedroom and stepped, unsuspectingly, inside.

*   *   *

Lindsay had been drowsing over the Blackwood edition of Conrad's
Typhoon,
but as soon as she heard the scrape of Forbes's key in the front door she snapped awake. Suddenly beset by nerves, she dropped the book to the carpet and for a moment became so agitated that she could hardly breathe. She rocked forward in the chair, clenched her fists into her lap and willed herself not to dissolve in tears. She thought of Geoffrey, of Geoffrey's voice on the telephone, so placid and soothing and unsurprised. Geoffrey would take over. Geoffrey would take command just as she had asked him to.

The lavatory flushed. She listened to the deluge of water pouring from the cistern above the pedestal. Door opening. Door closing. She forced herself upright in the chair and willed herself to appear unruffled. Cold and calculating, that's how she must be, like Forbes, just like Forbes.

She groped for the book, found and opened it.

Forbes entered the bedroom.

‘Lindsay! he exclaimed. ‘I thought you'd be in bed by now.'

Sun and sea air had revitalised his tan. His hair was tousled, his dark eyes somnolent. He looked young, almost boyish with his jacket slung across his shoulder and his shirt sleeves unfastened. For a split second Lindsay questioned if this handsome young man, image of the boy she had once loved, could ever betray her. She wanted to cry out, to hold out her arms, have him comfort her as if she were still an innocent and unlettered in the ways of the world.

‘What the hell are you doing dressed up?' Forbes said.

‘Waiting for you.'

‘Waiting for…' He grinned, uncertainly. ‘Are we going somewhere, then?'

‘I am,' Lindsay said.

Her voice was remarkably firm. She had rehearsed it, planned it with the meticulousness of an engineer setting out a project. All she had to do now was square up to him and carry it through. She closed the novel and balanced it on the crocodile-hide portmanteau that Eleanor had packed for her. The portmanteau contained her vanity case, shoes, a summer hat, underclothing, nightgowns, ribbons and stockings, a blouse, a travelling skirt, two summer dresses and a useful coat in
peau-de-soie:
everything she needed, in fact, tucked neatly into an oblong of crocodile hide no larger than a footstool.

‘
You
are? You are what?' Forbes said.

‘I'm leaving you.'

‘You're
what?
' He threw up a hand. ‘What's this you're telling me? Don't you know what a day I've had? For God's sake, Linnet, I haven't the patience for any of your idiotic nonsense, not tonight.' He thumped down on the side of the bed, hands cupping thighs, elbows cocked. He glowered at her, guilt and uncertainty undercutting anger.

He said, ‘Take that bloody coat off and put that bag away.'

She turned her wrist and consulted the gold bracelet watch that her papa had given her. She said, ‘At midnight, in approximately fifteen minutes, Forbes, you will be rid of me for good and all.'

‘Rid of you? What the – what does
that
mean?'

‘Free to go to Sylvie or, if you wish, to bring Sylvie here to live.'

‘Ssssss … Sylvie?'

‘Once you explain the situation I'm sure your family will have no objection. I expect you'll require the services of a midwife very soon, unless your mother feels she can cope with the birth herself. Winn – well, having another infant to care for won't make much difference to Winn, will it?'

‘What the holy hell are you talking about?' He got to his feet, not suddenly but sluggishly, as if a giant hand were pushing against him. ‘What the holy hell does Tom Calder's – does this woman have to do with me?'

‘Please don't raise your voice, Forbes, you'll waken the children.' He was vertical at last, hands clasping thighs, elbows cocked. Like a thin veneer of transparent varnish laid over pine, his tan had lost its shine. ‘I don't think you want to waken the children, do you, Forbes?' Lindsay continued. ‘I don't think you want to waken anyone. I mean, surely it would be better if you had a good night's sleep before you decide what you're going to tell them. By the by, was it a difficult day on the Gareloch? You look rather tired.'

‘You're going away with Paget, aren't you?'

‘That,' Lindsay said, ‘is irrelevant.'

‘Irrelevant! My wife running off with a bloody sailor isn't irrelevant!'

‘I'm not running off with anyone, Forbes. I'm leaving you. That's all there is to it. I'm simply clearing the decks before your new wife arrives.'

‘New wife? What are you
raving
about?'

‘Tom Calder's daughter. Tom, I expect, will have something to say about it, of course. He may be none too keen on you taking her in; though as you've already taken her in, in a manner of speaking, I personally see no harm in it.'

‘Oh, Jesus!
Jesus!
' He sat down again, head in hands. ‘Don't go, Lindsay. Please, don't go. I'll…' He peered from the tops of his eyes, a wary gesture that cast doubt upon his sincerity. ‘I'll take care of it. I promise I'll take care of it.'

‘I see,' Lindsay said. ‘How will you do that, Forbes? Do you intend to keep the poor girl in the background, to preserve her for your amusement a little while longer? As a matter of interest, how long
have
you been keeping her?'

He shook his head, rotating it between his hands. ‘Not long.'

‘How long is “not long”? A year, two years? Three, perhaps? Since our marriage, or
before
our marriage? I hope that taking time off to teach me my wifely duties didn't inconvenience you.' Lindsay paused. ‘I take it you don't deny that Sylvie Calder is your mistress?'

‘No, but I didn't know she was Tom Calder's daughter when I…'

‘Would it have made any difference?'

‘Probably not.'

‘Is it your child she's carrying?'

‘Of course.'

Denial had switched to contrition, contrition to defiance: at least, Lindsay thought, he's still man enough to try to brazen it out.

He said, ‘Who told you she was expecting? Gowry?'

‘She told me herself.'

‘You mean she came here?'

‘She turned up at Cissie's where I just happened to be taking tea.'

‘Bitch!' Forbes said, shaking his head. ‘Stupid little bitch! What did she hope to gain by bothering Cissie? Money, I suppose.'

‘No,' Lindsay said. ‘I don't think she's interested in money.'

‘Shows how well you know her.'

‘I think,' Lindsay said, ‘she's interested in having you for a husband.'

‘I told her' – he shook his head again – ‘months ago, I told her she couldn't ever have me. I never made promises I couldn't keep. I looked after her, gave her everything, her and her bloody dada, both.'

‘Albert Hartnell?'

‘Yes, bloody Albert Hartnell. I wouldn't be surprised if this was another of his tricks to squeeze money—'

‘I told you, Forbes, it
isn't
about money,' Lindsay said.

‘Then it's nasty,' Forbes said. ‘Then it's revenge.'

‘She wants you to marry her, to have a proper father for her child.'

‘She's not right in the head, you know,' Forbes said. ‘Don't tell me you're going to allow a lunatic to wreck our marriage?'

Impatiently, not ostentatiously, Lindsay glanced at her watch again.

‘I'm leaving in five minutes, Forbes. If you've anything else to tell me please be quick about it.'

‘Christ, you're serious, aren't you?'

‘Of course I am.'

‘What's your father going to say to it?'

‘He'll understand.'

‘What about the children?'

‘Philip will thrive well enough on milk formula and Papa will see to it that Harry is entertained.' She got to her feet. ‘I'm not going far, Forbes, and I will be back, you know.'

‘Yes,' he said, almost smugly. ‘Sure and you will.'

‘By which time I expect you to have moved out or, if you prefer it, to have reached an agreement with my father.'

‘An agreement? What sort of agreement?'

‘To purchase his share of the house.'

‘What?'
Forbes shouted loudly enough to make the light fittings ring. ‘What the hell's this you've cooked up now?'

‘I can't be sure, of course,' Lindsay said, ‘but I imagine my father will be looking for full cash payment from you before he signs anything.'

‘I don't
have
that kind of ready money,' Forbes shouted.

‘Think what you'll save when Sylvie's living here. No more rent to pay on your second home in St Mungo's Mansions, for a start. Admittedly you will have to raise a substantial amount of capital rather quickly but perhaps your mother will help with a loan.'

‘You leave my mam out of this.'

Lindsay reached for the handle of the portmanteau. ‘I don't think we can leave anyone out of it, really, Forbes, do you?'

He darted forward, caught her arm, drew her upright. His grip was brutal but when she stared at his fist he slackened it. He did not, however, let go.

‘You don't mean any of it, Lindsay,' he said. ‘You're just trying to scare me, aren't you? You won't leave. I know you, you won't leave the kiddies, or your papa, or your precious Miss Runciman. You don't want a scandal any more than I do. Give me a day, a couple of days to straighten everything out and I guarantee that you won't be bothered by Sylvie Calder ever again.'