David Webb 2 - A Necessary End Read online

  ‘I shan’t be. It wasn’t me who got serious. Still, it was fun while it lasted, a kind of tit-for-tat, though he didn’t realize.’

  ‘Tit-for-tat? What do you mean?’

  ‘Darling Uncle, stop worrying! I can take care of myself!’ The music changed and she spun out of his arms, twisting and shaking with the abandonment of youth and well aware of the notice she was attracting. Feeling ridiculous, Roger danced sedately opposite her. She was up to something and he didn’t like the sound of it. Oh, why did she have to grow up? She’d been such a sweet little girl.

  *

  It was midnight. Big Ben rang out over the stereo and they joined hands for ‘Auld Lang Syne’. Oliver dutifully kissed his wife, his daughter, and the two or three women between him and the kitchen. Then, extricating himself, he continued on his way to fetch the champagne. It was only when he’d rounded the fridge that he realized the room wasn’t empty. Heather had turned from the sink, a glass of water in her hand.

  His first instinct was to mutter an apology and withdraw. He resisted it, made himself smile. ‘You missed the celebrations!’

  ‘I don’t care for that part very much.’

  He’d forgotten how large and dark her eyes were, and her habit, surprisingly rare, of keeping them steadily on one as she spoke.

  ‘But you’ll let me wish you Happy New Year, I hope?’

  She smiled slightly. ‘Happier than the last one you wished me?’

  He was taken aback. She was prepared to talk about it, then. For himself, he’d have preferred a social gloss-over. He said stiffly, ‘I behaved very badly. I hope you’ve forgiven me.’

  ‘Of course. Years ago.’

  She was more attractive than he remembered. No fires had been lit by their love-making in those pre-permissive days — it had taken Avis to do that. Now, though, he felt a growing excitement to which his mood contributed — irritation with Nancy, the drinks he’d had, the volatile time of year. Hell, it was a night for kissing and he suddenly needed to kiss her.

  ‘Happy New Year, Heather.’

  The note in his voice alerted her, and her startled look changed to an answering awareness. They came together awkwardly, clumsily, but at the moment of contact their bodies fused in a shuddering acknowledgment of desire, succumbing helplessly to a passion as devastating as it was unexpected. It could have lasted only seconds before Heather pulled away.

  And as they stood panting, staring at each other, a voice from the door said, ‘Oh, there you are, Mrs Frayne. I’m afraid your husband’s not well. Would you like us to take him home?’

  With a cry of distress, Heather hurried from the room. Oliver stood where she’d left him, his mouth dry and his heart clattering against his ribs. Beside him, the fridge clicked and roared, the cold tap dripped into the sink.

  ‘Dear God in heaven!’ he said aloud. ‘What happens now?’

  *

  An hour later, Rose shivered in her bedroom as she read the letter again:

  What do you mean, its over? What are you doing to me? For Gods sake Rose you know how I feel about you. Its taken me a lifetime to find you so stop teasing there’s a good girl. I made you happy didn’t I? And I’ll go on making you happy I swear it. If its your father and Nancy you’re worried about forget it. I’ll sort things out. Meet me at the usual place on Sunday. If you’re not there I’ll come and get you. I love you my darling. Now and for ever.

  She drew a deep breath and began to tear the paper into fragments. Then she swept them into her hand, held them over the waste basket and let them fall in a snowstorm of flakes.

  ‘Happy Bloody New Year!’ she said.

  *

  Roger came through from the bathroom, fastening his pyjama jacket.

  ‘It was a good party, wasn’t it? Glad we came after all?’

  ‘Yes, I quite enjoyed it.’ Faith wasn’t given to overstatement. She was standing at the dressing-table in her silk nightgown, brushing her short, expertly-cut hair. He came up behind her, his eyes on hers in the mirror, and saw their guardedness. God! he screamed silently. Why won’t she let me touch her? He turned away, feeling her relax.

  ‘The only thing that spoiled it,’ she went on after a moment, ‘was that doctor making a fool of himself. I was sorry for his wife.’

  ‘He probably needed to relax, poor chap. Drink’s an occupational hazard with medics.’

  ‘Hardly reassuring for prospective patients.’ She laid her brush down and reached for the jar of night-cream. ‘That Charlotte of yours is an odd character, isn’t she? I mean, smoking cigars and those extraordinary clothes. Sheer affectation, surely?’

  It occurred to neither of them that Faith speaking of affectation was the supreme irony.

  Roger hesitated, unwilling for a complexity of reasons to discuss Charlotte with his wife. ‘It’s not a pose. She’s genuinely not interested what people think of her.’

  ‘Did you say she lectures at Oxford? That might account for it!’ Faith’s father and brothers were Cambridge men. ‘However, the person who really alarmed me was Rose. It was like watching Avis all over again.’

  Roger sobered. ‘Yes, I know. I tried to speak to her, but of course she wouldn’t listen.’

  Faith ran a finger over the creases in his forehead. ‘You can’t solve everyone’s problems, my love. Leave that young lady to her father.’

  He caught and held her hand, despite her attempt to free it. ‘You do love me, don’t you, Faith?’

  ‘Darling, what a question!’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Of course I do. Now let go of my hand. I’m tired and I want to go to sleep.’ She kissed his cheek and slid between the sheets, pointedly closing her eyes.

  Roger sighed, walked to the window and held back the curtain. Beyond the narrow garden lay the main road through the village. Across it and slightly to his right, he could make out the gateway to The Gables, though the building was hidden by trees. He could hear music in the distance; no doubt the festivities would last all night.

  At the sound of footsteps, he looked down in time to see Henry turn into the drive and disappear round the side of the house. Walked his girlfriend home, no doubt. Wise of Oliver to ban cars for the evening and let the kids invite their own guests.

  Roger dropped the curtain and looked over at the bed. Eyes closed and breathing regularly, Faith gave the impression of sleep. Message received!

  Still in the time-warp of New Year, his mind slipped back to the early days when, warm and demonstrative by nature, he’d been hurt by his wife’s reserve. Their lovemaking she accepted as her duty, but a touch on her hand, an arm round her shoulders, made her shy like a nervous thoroughbred. Which, of course, she was, he conceded ruefully.

  And before he could stop them, his thoughts turned back to Charlotte. Seeing her again had unsettled him. There was still pain in remembering those early days, though how much of it stemmed from their association with Avis, he wasn’t sure. But they’d had something, he and Charlotte, a closeness, a oneness of thought that he’d never achieved with Faith. Why had she let it go? Did she ever regret it, as he did?

  He sighed, his eyes refocusing on the quiet figure in the bed. Still, Faith was a good wife according to her lights. His homes were run smoothly, his comfort always their top priority; and there was no doubt she was an asset socially, the perfect hostess, the sought-after guest. Furthermore, her connections had done a lot for his career, in which she was intensely interested. Now he could repay her, with the knighthood attendant on a High Court Judge. That goal, the focal point of his hopes for as long as he could remember, was at last within his grasp.

  Carefully, so as not to disturb his wife, Roger climbed into bed and prepared himself to sleep.

  CHAPTER 2

  ‘So tell me about the party!’ Hannah invited, setting down the coffee tray. ‘Did you meet any ghosts from the past?’

  Charlotte smiled. ‘More than one, yes. It was most enjoyable.’

  ‘I hadn’t realized you knew t
he second wife.’

  ‘It was I who introduced them. It makes me feel responsible, which I resent.’

  ‘But they’re happy, aren’t they?’

  ‘I hope so.’ Charlotte sipped her coffee. ‘There was an unpleasant atmosphere last night. I’d the feeling they’d had a blazing row before we arrived and couldn’t wait for us to go, so they could get on with it. Oliver was very tight-lipped at the beginning.’

  She paused, and added reflectively, ‘Although I introduced them, it never occurred to me I was playing Cupid. Oliver’d phoned to say he was in London, and as I was lunching with Nancy, I asked him to join us. Then, when we came out of the restaurant, it was raining. They were going in the same direction, so they shared a taxi. I thought no more about it till Nancy phoned a few weeks later to say they were getting married. I was — astounded.’

  Hannah refilled her cup. ‘Why was it so surprising?’

  ‘Because I knew she’d never leave London. She’s founder-president of the Nancy Dean School of Cookery and runs a profitable catering firm on the side, which sends meals to directors’ dining-rooms and so on. She wasn’t likely to pull up stakes to vegetate in Frecklemarsh. Nor was there any chance of Oliver selling The Gables and moving to London. And Nancy’d told me once she felt much freer doing her own thing without a husband round her neck. Though from what I gather, Danny Dean would have been a drag on anyone.’

  ‘You’ve never met him?’

  ‘No, they’d split up when I met Nancy, but they still keep in touch. “Touch” being the operative word,’ Charlotte added drily. ‘He’s not above asking for money on occasion. He’s never stuck at a job in his life, which was why Nancy had to support them. She started very modestly by cooking for dinner parties, and it grew from there.’

  ‘Where’s Danny now?’

  Charlotte shrugged. ‘On his feet, I don’t doubt. He wheedles his way into one job after another, gets bored, and moves on, leaving his employer high and dry. He must have the charm of the devil to get away with it.’

  ‘No doubt Oliver’s first marriage was more orthodox.’

  Charlotte was silent, staring into the fire.

  ‘Well?’ Hannah prompted. ‘Don’t tell me there are skeletons in his closet, too!’

  ‘He and Avis certainly weren’t orthodox. Their marriage started with a bang, swung badly off the rails — or at least, Avis did — and ended in tragedy.’

  ‘She went off the rails? How do you mean? I thought you liked her?’

  ‘I loved her,’ Charlotte said simply. ‘We all did, but that didn’t stop me wanting to shake her. She was beautiful and vivacious and witty, but she was supremely selfish. All that mattered was that she got what she wanted. And she wanted Oliver. No matter that he was about to marry Heather Jarvis. Avis set her cap at him and he fell for her, hook, line and sinker. It was almost ludicrous to see. So we went to the wedding and sat back to see what would happen. And what happened was that she got bored.

  ‘It was understandable, of course. Oliver hadn’t time to dance attendance on her. His father, who’d started The Gables, had just handed over to him and he was working all hours. And as they lived in the hotel, she’d nothing to occupy her, which was fatal. I think that’s why she had a child straight away. But caring for a baby soon lost its novelty. During my vacations she was always on the phone, wanting me to go for drives, to concerts and exhibitions — anything, just to get out of the hotel.’

  ‘Didn’t Oliver see what was happening?’

  ‘If he did, there was little he could do. The Gables was beginning to repay his hard work and had to be nursed along. But when Avis became pregnant again, he asked Jeff Bartlett to convert three cottages across the road and they moved over there.’

  ‘Did she settle, once she’d a place of her own?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. By that time I’d moved to Oxford permanently and didn’t see so much of them. But I heard she’d hired a nanny and was spending a lot of time with Faith and Roger. She was seen with prominent people in fashionable places, and inevitably there was talk. She was even cited in a divorce case, but Oliver was still besotted with her and believed her when she protested her innocence. Or at least, he pretended to. He probably felt if her affairs were the price he had to pay to keep her, then he’d accept them. But they began to have rows. Quite often Avis would start one in public, and it was highly embarrassing all round. And she got progressively less discreet. Believe it or not, she even brought an occasional man back with her and booked him into the hotel! She was drinking, too. All the classic symptoms of a bored, unhappy woman, though God knows she’d two lovely children and a husband who adored her. And by this time the strain was showing on Oliver, too.’

  Charlotte stopped speaking, lost in her thoughts. After a moment, Hannah said softly, ‘What was the tragedy you mentioned? I forget the details.’

  ‘One night she came home slightly the worse for drink, tripped over her long dress, and fell backwards down the stairs. She broke her neck.’

  ‘How appalling! Poor Oliver.’

  ‘Yes. It emerged later that she’d been with one of her lovers. They were seen in a car parked outside a country club. I confess that at the time — ‘

  ‘Yes? At the time, what?’

  Charlotte looked up. ‘Don’t dare repeat this to that policeman of yours, but I did wonder if Oliver was waiting at the top of the stairs, and if perhaps — only perhaps — he might have given her the teeniest push.’

  Hannah stared at her. ‘You’re saying he might have murdered her?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Charlotte spoke sharply. ‘Though God knows he’d enough provocation. If — just if she was tipsy enough to taunt him with her evening’s entertainment, well, one could hardly blame him. It wouldn’t be murder, more a crime passionel.’

  ‘It would be murder in my book,’ Hannah said flatly, ‘and in David’s, too. No, of course I won’t tell him, but I hope you kept your wild theories to yourself.’ She paused, then asked with interest, ‘How did Oliver take it?’

  ‘He was devastated. He convinced himself their life had been idyllic — another reason for my surprise when he remarried. After all, it was barely a year later. And Nancy’s so different from Avis, in character and appearance. She seems quite out of place at the Lodge — small, brown Nancy and the tall, golden Pendricks. Like a sparrow among peacocks.’ Charlotte reached for her handbag. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ It was a rhetorical question and Hannah watched in silence as she lit a slim cigar.

  ‘What happened to the girl Oliver was engaged to?’

  Her aunt smiled, blowing a cloud of pungent smoke. ‘She walked into the room last night, as large as life.’

  ‘Good heavens! So they’ve kissed and made up?’

  ‘As to that, I couldn’t say. He kept out of her way.’

  ‘Was there anyone else you knew?’

  ‘Roger, of course. The first man who proposed to me.’

  ‘How many have since?’

  ‘Quite a few, impudent child, but none I’d give up my independence for. He hasn’t changed at all. Nor, for that matter, has Oliver, apart from a few lines round his mouth and a touch of grey over the ears. What a different time-scale we inhabit as we grow older! In twenty-odd years, the Pendrick children have grown from babyhood through schooldays to young adults, changing beyond recognition in the process. Yet here we all are, preserved like flies in amber. Or is that wishful thinking?’

  ‘What of Roger’s wife? Is she wearing well?’

  ‘I’d say so. She’s an “Hon”, you know. Daughter of a minor earl.’

  Hannah burst out laughing. ‘Darling, how wonderfully dismissive! I gather you don’t like her?’

  ‘I can’t decide. She’s languid and elegant and as fastidious as a cat. Beautifully dressed, beautifully groomed.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I don’t know. Remote, somehow. Behind a screen.’

  ‘I must say,’ Hannah remarked, stretching, ‘you had a far more inte
resting time than I did. David was on duty, so I just went to Gwen’s. She lives with her old mother, you know. You can imagine how riotous it was, a headmistress and her deputy solemnly toasting each other, with the old lady nodding in the background! No,’ she added quickly, at Charlotte’s bark of laughter, ‘that’s not fair. I thoroughly enjoyed it. We watched the telly and had a delicious supper. I’m very fond of Gwen.’

  ‘And you’ve asked your policeman round this evening, to make up?’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep calling him my policeman.’

  ‘Well, he is, isn’t he?’

  ‘Not really, no. He’s very much his own man, and I’m happy to leave it that way.’

  ‘No chance of wedding bells, then?’

  ‘None. Like you, I value my independence.’ She smiled. ‘I asked him to come and meet my maiden aunt. I think he’s in for a surprise.’

  ‘Let’s hope it’s a pleasant one,’ said Charlotte equably.

  *

  ‘If anyone calls round or phones, I’m not in.’ Rose stood in the archway, looking defiantly at her family.

  ‘An ambiguous statement,’ remarked Henry. ‘Are we to assume you’re going out, or simply taking avoiding action?’

  ‘Does it matter? I’m not in if anyone wants me.’

  ‘“Anyone” being — ?’

  ‘Anyone at all.’

  ‘Don’t frown, dear,’ Faith said absently. ‘You’ll get lines on your face. Come and sit down. You make me uneasy, standing there glowering.’

  Roger put down the local paper. ‘The play at the Grand gets a good crit. Shall we give it a try? Our treat, of course, to repay your hospitality.’

  ‘Nancy won’t be here,’ Oliver said. ‘Having indulged us with three days of her company, she’s off to the bright lights.’

  Roger looked at his hostess, who’d flushed. ‘What a shame. I thought you’d be here all week.’

  ‘So did the rest of us. It can’t be Tuesday, anyway. The Pipers have invited us for drinks. As usual, I had to make Nancy’s excuses.’

  ‘The price of being indispensable,’ Roger said peaceably.