The Winter Folly (28 page)

It’s odd
, she thought,
here I am with this unconventional crowd, with the girls who drink and the men who love their rock and roll music, and yet I’m the most
unconventional of them all. I’m the ruined woman, not even divorced and living with another man.

They finished dinner and went through to the library where the gramophone was already pumping out the American hits that the girls loved – Ray Charles, Roy Orbison and the rest –
while the boys discussed blues music.

Alexandra watched them while one of the girls, already drunk, talked to her earnestly about something entirely incomprehensible, another couple kissed on the sofa and Nicky went around with his
camera trying to frame shots and rearrange the lights to the best advantage.

‘My lord?’ It was Thomas, pale and apprehensive as he ventured into the party.

‘What is it?’ Nicky said, trying to take a glass shade off a curved reading light.

‘There is someone who insists on seeing you. I’ve shown him into the small salon.’

‘Oh – who?’

‘He wouldn’t say.’

‘Well, tell him to go away. We’re busy.’ Nicky’s voice was already thickened by the Tennessee bourbon that Patsy had been using to make Manhattans.

Thomas bowed and left, but he was back a few moments later.

‘I’m afraid he won’t go. He insists on seeing you.’

Alexandra got up. She was the least affected by alcohol as she didn’t have a taste for whisky and could only manage a little wine with dinner. ‘I’ll sort it out, Nicky,’
she said, and followed Thomas down the hall.

‘He’s very persistent and I can’t order him away – he’s . . . he’s a gentleman,’ Thomas explained apologetically.

‘I see. Don’t worry, it’s fine, Thomas. I can handle it now.’

Thomas led the way to the door of the salon and opened it. Alexandra stepped inside and gasped with fright. Standing in front of the fireplace was Laurence, his hands in his pockets as he stared
at the oil landscape that hung above the mantel. He turned and his expression changed from hostility into something even more hateful.

‘So it’s true,’ he said, his blue eyes like ice. ‘You
are
here. Your father wrote to tell me where I might find you. Is your lover such a coward he can’t
even face me? Get your things at once. You’re coming back with me. You’ve had your fun but I can’t go on forever making excuses for your absence. I’ll be damned if
you’ll make me a disgrace. You can stop all this now and come back where you belong.’

‘Thomas, can you get Lord Northmoor for me?’ Alexandra asked faintly. ‘Please tell him it’s urgent.’

‘Yes, miss.’ Thomas turned and hurried away down the hall.

‘You’ve been living it up, haven’t you?’ Sardonic amusement danced in his eyes, but the throbbing in his throat betrayed his anxiety. ‘Quite a place, this. No
wonder you wanted to run away – it makes our flat look like the butler’s pantry. I suppose you’re sorry you married me, when you could have had all of this respectably, instead of
as his mistress.’

‘Laurence,’ she said miserably, ‘I’m sorry you’ve come. You shouldn’t have.’

‘No, I’m sure you’d much rather I left you in peace, but you’re my wife, dammit. Get your coat now, you’re coming with me. You don’t seem to understand that
you’re legally and morally mine.’

‘No, I’m not,’ she whispered. ‘I never will be.’

‘The law says differently. I’ve come to fetch you and I’m not going without you. Your father agrees. If you ever want to be reconciled with him, you must come now.’

She could only stare at him in horrified disbelief. The idea that she might actually go with him seemed incomprehensible. Walk away from everything that was true and good and real in her life,
and turn instead to a dead, sterile existence where she would surely be suffocated? She would rather die.

‘No,’ she said in a strangled voice. ‘Never.’

He took a menacing step towards her. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? You’re still my wife and you’re obliged to do as I say. You belong to me.’

A kind of madness whirled through her brain born of fear and desperation. She felt her face distort and her voice came out in a harsh scream. ‘No! It’s all over! I don’t know
what kind of lie you’ve been spinning but you’re going to have to go back and tell them the truth – I’ve gone and I’m never coming back. Even if Nicky threw me out,
you would be the last person I’d turn to because I’d rather starve on the streets than be your wife!’

As she stood panting at him, her eyes blazing in fury, Laurence’s expression became despairing. He stepped towards her, his eyes beseeching.

‘Please, I beg you, Alexandra. You don’t understand what this means. I need you. You must come back with me—’

At that moment, she felt Nicky at her shoulder.

‘Get out of my house, Sykes,’ he commanded, his face stony and his fists clenched.

Laurence turned even whiter, and Alexandra could see he was trembling. He was afraid. She was surprised by the wash of pity she felt.

‘I don’t know how you can look me in the eye,’ he said, a touch of nobility about his thin face and set shoulders. ‘You’ve acted like a cad, taking another
man’s wife. They’ll throw you out of White’s for it, you’ll see. I had hoped to protect us all from the inevitable scandal but you’re evidently too shameless for
that.’

‘You’re the one who hit your wife,’ Nicky said coldly. ‘As far as I can see, you’ve got no claim on her now. And we’re happy.’

‘For now,’ Laurence said in a jeering tone. He turned to Alexandra. ‘And when he’s tired of you, you’ll be good for nothing and no one. What will you do
then?’

‘Get out!’ roared Nicky.

Sandy appeared behind them. ‘Is there a problem, Nicky?’ he asked, his voice slurred.

‘No,’ Nicky said, his eyes fixed on Laurence. ‘Sykes here is just leaving. Aren’t you?’

‘I’m going,’ Laurence said stiffly. ‘I can see it was a mistake to come.’

‘Who is this ghastly weed?’ drawled Sandy.

‘No one of any importance,’ Nicky replied contemptuously. Alexandra put a hand on his arm.

‘Please don’t,’ she whispered. They had won and he was going. There seemed little point in humiliating him as well.

Laurence tried to leave but the other men pointedly wouldn’t move out of his way and he was forced to press between them. Thomas stood in the hall, his eyes wide at the drama he was
witnessing, and he held the front door open to the darkness beyond. As Laurence passed Alexandra he stopped, looked her in the eye and said quietly, ‘You don’t know what you’ve
done.’ Then he marched out into the hall with his chin up, as though he was in one of his regiment’s parades, and walked out the door.

Sandy turned to Nicky. ‘Is he causing trouble?’

‘He came to threaten us and attempt to ruin our lives,’ Nicky returned.

‘We can’t have that, Nick, you’re the best of bloody men! And Alexandra is a priceless jewel amongst women!’ Sandy swayed slightly, his cheeks flushed with indignation at
the insult to his friends. ‘Let’s give the shit a send-off he won’t forget.’

‘Nicky, no!’ Alexandra pleaded. ‘Let him go!’

But it was too late. Sandy had already spotted a box full of empty bottles that had been taken from the library and put in the hall to be carried out to the garages. He went to it, picked up two
empty wine bottles and carried them to the front door. Alexandra hurried after him, and saw that Laurence was getting into his car, the little Triumph Herald that he had used to take her on their
honeymoon.

Before she could stop him, Sandy yelled, ‘Good riddance to you!’ and lobbed the bottle at the car. It spun through the air, glinting in the light from the hall, and bounced off the
roof, leaving a dent as it shattered on the gravel. Laurence looked round, shocked.

‘Don’t!’ cried Alexandra, putting out a hand to stop Sandy throwing the other one but it was too late. It whirled through the air and smashed into the side of Laurence’s
head, knocking him sideways so that he groaned and staggered, evidently stunned. He put one hand to his cheek where a deep red mark was already forming.

‘Laurence!’ Alexandra ran down the front steps towards him. ‘Are you all right?’

He was frowning, rubbing at his face and staring at the bottle as it rolled, still intact, on the ground at his feet. As she approached, he looked up, his eyes dazed, and said roughly,
‘Stay the hell away from me. You’ve brought me enough bad luck already. I hope you’re happy that you’ve destroyed me.’

She stopped short and gazed at him. An awful sadness at what had happened between them welled up in her. ‘I’m sorry, Laurence. Really I am.’

‘Not as sorry as I am,’ he muttered. ‘Now, if you can call your beasts off, I’m going to leave.’

But the crowd of partygoers had come out to witness the fun and they wanted to join in. With a chorus of shouts and laughs they began to lob more bottles from the top of the steps, not, it
seemed, with the intention of hitting Laurence or his car, but for the pleasure of seeing them shatter into sparkling shards on the gravel. She could hear Nicky trying to stop them, trying to
explain that it would be difficult to clear away the broken glass, but no one was listening.

Laurence rubbed at his cheek again, then climbed into the front seat of his car. The next moment the Herald was heading for the drive, swerving erratically to avoid the shards on the ground.
Alexandra jumped as a bottle landed close by her and smashed into pieces. She turned and ran back, one arm shielding herself in case of a direct hit. Nicky saw what was happening and yelled at the
others to stop throwing the bottles, snatching the missiles from their hands in his fury. They gave up their sport, and retreated into the house, laughing. As Alexandra reached the top of the
steps, Nicky waited for her with his arms open.

‘Don’t worry, darling, we’ve seen him off for good,’ he said comfortingly, folding her into his embrace.

Alexandra hugged him, taking solace from the warmth of his body, but she wished that it had not ended with Laurence being treated like that. She felt no justice at the blow he had suffered, only
a nasty creeping sense of shame.

It was two days later, as they were at breakfast in the round dining room, when Thomas came in, went quietly to Nicky and whispered in his ear. Nicky got up at once, putting
his napkin on his chair, saying, ‘Will you excuse me, darling?’

Alexandra looked up briefly from the book she’d been studying while she nibbled on toast and marmalade. The house seemed so blissfully quiet and civilised now that Sandy and his friends
had gone, and she was appreciating the tranquil hours. Music and drink had not been enough to heal her heartache, and she hoped that quiet might now help instead. But she had the sense of gathering
trouble; after what had happened when Laurence was here, she was expecting legal papers at any moment announcing his intention to divorce her. She could imagine the scandal. No doubt Nicky’s
involvement would mean the press would take an interest, and she could imagine what view her father would take of that. It was hard to believe that he would ever forgive her for dragging the family
name through such disgrace. But what choice did she have? She longed to be free of her marriage and she was sure Laurence did too. It had filled her with sadness to see him here, begging her to
return, when he must know as well as she did that only a life of misery awaited them if they stayed together.

When Nicky came back, she sensed a change in the atmosphere immediately. ‘Is everything all right, darling?’

He sat in the chair beside her, instead of the one opposite that he normally took, and put a hand on hers, his grey eyes serious.

‘What is it?’ she said with a short laugh. ‘You’re worrying me.’

‘Darling, I’ve got some very sad news.’

She sat bolt upright with a gasp. ‘It’s Father, isn’t it? Oh no, I can’t bear it! Something’s happened to him.’ She screwed her eyes shut, her fists clenching
hard so that her fingernails dug into her palm. She couldn’t cope with the idea that she would lose him without their making peace.

‘No, no, it’s not that – your father’s fine as far as I know.’ Nicky bit his lip and then said, ‘But you’re right, something has happened. It’s
Laurence. I’m afraid there was an accident when he was on his way back to London from here. For some reason he took a wrong turn – he must have got lost in the darkness. He . . . the
car . . .’

‘Is he all right?’ she said, stricken. In her mind, she could see him as he left, dazed and stumbling slightly as he climbed into the driver’s seat, the missiles still falling
around him.

Nicky’s hand tightened around hers. ‘Alex, he went off Dursford Bridge and into the reservoir. They only found the car yesterday. I’m afraid that Laurence was still inside
it.’

She pulled in a hot, painful breath. The world seemed to darken around her.

Nicky was talking very fast suddenly about how there had been complaints about the bridge in recent years and how it was possible for someone who didn’t know the place well to be confused
by the sharp turn just before the bridge itself and take it at the wrong angle, and how the railings had been earmarked for replacement, but Alexandra barely heard him. Instead she only saw the
little car swerving as Laurence drove away. He’d been hit on the head by a bottle. He was dazed. Perhaps he’d been in a state of semi-consciousness. He should never have been driving,
not in that condition.

She turned and gazed at Nicky in horror. ‘
We
did it,’ she whispered. She felt numb and yet twisted up inside at the same time.

‘No, we didn’t!’ Nicky looked astonished. ‘What are you talking about? It was an awful accident but that’s all! Of course we had nothing to do with it.’

‘He was hit on the head. Sandy hit him with the bottle. He was almost knocked unconscious.’

‘He was fine,’ Nicky said robustly. ‘It only grazed him. It was wrong of Sandy to chuck the bottles but it was just a lark.’

Alexandra said nothing. It had not seemed to her in the least like a lark to pelt a man with glass. She felt the drag of confusion and guilt.
Poor Laurence
, she thought, seeing him
panicked and bewildered as the ice-cold water rose into the little car, sucking him down into its blackness. She saw him wrestling with the door and remembered how it used to jam from time to time,
and Laurence would use a special trick to get it open. Perhaps, in the shock, he forgot the trick, or couldn’t force the door against the weight of the water, and then he would have felt it
at his chest, his neck, then over his mouth and nose until . . .