The Tightrope Walkers, page 21
George raised himself up on one elbow so that he could look at her properly, noticing the unusual rosy warmth of her skin and the blackness of her dilated pupils. He stroked the fine blonde hair away from her face, tracing the prominent cheekbones and letting his fingertips run across her lips and down to her pointed chin.
‘I’m glad.’
‘You sound worried.’ Flixe’s dark eyebrows contracted slightly. He shook his head, smiling ruefully.
‘Not worried, but somehow disturbed. Don’t look so upset. Not in a dramatic way. It’s just … There’s something about you that’s quite outside my experience. I really like your honesty.’ He sounded surprised, as though he was working out what his feelings actually were and was disconcerted by them.
‘Good,’ said Flixe. ‘You must be getting awful pins and needles in your elbow.’
He laughed and dropped back on the bed, putting his hands behind his head.
‘Felicity?’
‘Mmm?’
‘What do you think it means?’
Surprised, she looked sideways at him and saw that he was staring up at the ceiling.
‘What does what mean?’
‘This extraordinary seriousness I feel about something that ought to be frivolous.’
‘It’s too soon for that, George.’
‘Are you angry with me?’
There was a pause before she leaned over to kiss his firm chin.
‘Certainly not, but I suppose I might be slightly afraid. It’s not something I had expected or know how to deal with at the moment. Can we just … ignore it?’
‘The seriousness or the whole thing?’ He sounded worried and she kissed him again.
‘The seriousness, dear fool. The whole thing is far too good to ignore.’
‘Good.’ He hugged her and kissed her hair. ‘That’s all right then. What did you expect when we first met?’
Flixe leaned on him and revelled in the sensation of his skin against hers.
‘Flirtation to start with,’ she said lightly. ‘Then pretty quickly at that gruesome dinner of the Kinghovers it did cross my mind that we might one day end up in bed; and then the more I thought about it all through the children’s school holidays, the more lovely I thought it might be – as a kind of treat to make the rest of life easier. Nothing more.’
‘Has it been very difficult?’ he asked, dropping the teasing note in his voice. ‘Life, I mean.’
‘Bloody,’ said Flixe, muffling her voice in his shoulder. She rolled away from him and stared up at the fringed and ruffled pelmet over the curtains, noticing in horror that there was a new crack in the cornice. If the house were to fall down, she would never be able to afford to do anything about it. She checked the rising panic.
‘But if I have occasional blissful treats with you I’ll be able to manage.’
‘I’d like to be able to help, you know,’ he said mildly and she turned to him at once.
‘Don’t say that. I don’t need it. Lots of people are helping me and I can’t take on any more debts. I can cope with them at this level. Truly. It is just wonderful to be able to let it all drift for a little while.’
‘All right, but will you promise to tell me if you do need help – any sort of help?’ Seeing her lovely worn face start to look worried again, he added with a mischievous smile: ‘Putting up shelves, changing dripping washers, that sort of thing. I’m quite neat-handed about the house.’
Flixe relaxed again.
‘I think that’s probably the most romantic offer I’ve ever had.’
He held her tightly, laughing into her silky hair.
‘Good. And if you need anything else – anything – you must promise to tell me. You’ve got my number. Just ring me.’
As though on cue the telephone beside her bed began to ring. Flixe left it for ten rings, hoping that it would be some casual caller who would be easily put off. Then she said: ‘Do you mind if I answer? I always hate the thought that it might be one of the children in distress.’
‘Go ahead. I know about telephones. I always have to answer mine.’
‘So you do,’ she said as she picked up the receiver. Then she recited her number.
‘Flixe? Are you all right? I’ve been ringing for ages,’ said her elder sister.
‘I’m fine, Gerry; I was in the loo.’
There was a smothered snort of laughter from beside her.
‘Have you heard from Natalie?’
‘No. I did try to ring the other day, but there was no answer. Why? Gerry, she surely hasn’t been involved in any of the fighting? It’s all been in the Latin Quarter. Across the river from her.’
‘Yes. I mean, yes, it’s across the river and no, she wasn’t involved, but apparently Bertrand wants to get her away from Paris because it looks as though there’s going to be more trouble, and probably some serious strikes. In some ways the obvious place for her to stay is at Ming’s because she’s got more free time, but I did wonder whether you might like the company?’
‘I adore Natalie,’ said Flixe truthfully as she wondered why Gerry was acting as an intermediary between them. ‘But there’s so much on that I’d hardly ever see her. I think it would be better if she went to Ming and Mark. I’ll probably see just as much of her there and won’t have to worry about her while I’m flogging round my treadmill everyday.’
‘Okay. I’ll fix it. Ming is quite happy to have her. All well with you, old thing?’
‘Fine,’ said Flixe, increasingly puzzled by her sister’s intervention. ‘The dance at the Kirkwaters’seems to have gone all right and I had a couple of new enquiries during it, so business may boom. Thanks for ringing, Gerry. Love to Mike. Bye.’
She put the receiver down and turned to George. He thought she looked as though her conscience was feeling most uncomfortable.
‘I really ought to telephone my younger sister. I should have done it as soon as we got in. Can you bear it?’
George smiled. ‘Why don’t I get up and fetch us a drink?’ he said.
‘Lovely. I think that there’s a tiny bit of decent brandy left, which would be nice. It’s in the left-hand cupboard in the dining room sideboard. Can you find it?’
‘I’m sure I can.’
He collected his clothes and took them into the bathroom so that Flixe could have some privacy. She quickly dialled Ming’s number and when her sister answered, said at once: ‘Ming, I ought to have rung you first thing this morning.’
There was a laugh at the other end of the line.
‘Judging from what I’ve already heard about the magnificent dance you orchestrated last night I’d have thought you would have been fast asleep. I was going to ring you after supper.’
For a moment Flixe was distracted.
‘Have you really heard about the party?’
‘Definitely. Three people have rung me up this morning to tell me about my brilliant sister. I’m so pleased it’s working, Flixe.’
‘Thank you. And it is thanks to you. I’d never have thought of earning money like that if you hadn’t suggested those first few clients, and your taking on the girls yesterday really helped. How were they?’
‘They were fine.’ Ming’s voice was warm and sure. ‘Sophie was sad when we took them back to school, but no more than any fourteen-year-old would have been. We had a lovely day together.’
‘You are the kindest and the best, Ming. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I hope Mark doesn’t think I’m exploiting you.’
‘He’s not stupid, you know. And he understands what you’re going through.’
‘I’m glad. You’re lucky with him. It was worth waiting all those years to find him.’
‘I’ve never doubted it,’ said Ming, who had not met her husband until she was into her thirties and her sisters had given up hope of her ever finding someone she could love. ‘How are you? Really?’
‘At this particular moment, Ming, I am floating in bliss. But it may not – probably won’t – last.’
‘Really?’ The word was the same as she had used before but it sounded entirely different. ‘If you mean what I think you mean, Flixe, I’m glad. But do take care of yourself.’
‘It’s all right. I am. When it’s … when I’m more settled I’ll tell you all about it.’
‘Only when you want. I hope he’s nice enough for you.’
‘He’s a dear and very kind. But I ought to go in a minute. I hear you’re having Natalie to stay.’
‘Yes, Bertrand is sending her over tomorrow. Will you drop in? She’ll be pining to see you.’
‘If I can. Otherwise, I’ll telephone. Give her my love.’
‘I will. Good-night,’
‘Good-night, Mingie.’
Flixe put down the telephone, found her dressing-gown and went in search of George.
The following day Flixe went to the constituency office to write innumerable letters and then drove to Ming’s house in Holland Park Avenue. She parked behind her sister’s big blue Citroen and went to ring the front doorbell. Ming answered and flung her arms round her sister.
‘How heavenly! Natalie and I were just talking about you. Come on in and have tea with us. We’ve only just started.’
Flixe kissed Ming and together they walked into the drawing room. Natalie was sitting on one of the matching silver-grey sofas. She rose as soon as she saw who the new arrival was and held out her hands.
Flixe took them and clung tightly. She saw that there were tears in Natalie’s dark eyes, eyes so like Peter’s that her own began to smart.
‘I’ll fetch another cup,’ said Ming, seeing that they needed a little time.
‘Andrew is so like him,’ said Natalie, releasing her sister-in-law’s hands and sitting carefully back on the well-cushioned sofa. ‘It’s wonderful – and difficult sometimes – just to be with him.’
‘I know. It was so good of you to have him. Did he tell you anything? I haven’t any idea how he really is but I do know he’s hurting.’
Natalie shrugged. Her shoulders looked very thin as they raised the smooth dark blue barathea of her perfect suit.
‘That is impossible to say. He was very self-contained, out most of every day and utterly polite when we met. Charming too.’
‘I’m glad he was polite. But how are you? It must have been terrible in Paris.’
‘It was.’ Natalie crossed one slender leg over the other and Flixe silently admired her Ferragamo shoes. It seemed impossible to imagine anyone as exquisite as Natalie being anywhere near rioting students. ‘And Bertrand says it will get worse.’
‘But what is it all about? I can’t understand why students should have got so out of hand in Europe. In America? Yes. They have the draft to contend with and a real campaign about something as important as stopping that awful war, but not here or in Paris.’
‘In Paris they have some real problems, too. Not the war, but problems of being a student in a country where everyone has the right to go to university and there is just not enough room. There are not enough professors or even lodgings for the students. It is not strange that they are restive. And then when you find the Government sending in the CRS with gas! What can they expect?’
‘Still, it’s hardly enough to justify burning cars and causing all that damage. It didn’t actually touch you, did it?’
Ming brought in the third cup then, as well as a kettleful of hot water to refill the teapot. While she was pouring out the tea, Flixe pressed Natalie, trying to understand why she had fled to London. Flixe thought that she looked rather frail sitting there and older than her fifty-eight years. Her dark hair was much greyer than it had been at Peter’s funeral and her skin looked almost papery with a sinister pale yellow tinge.
‘No, but Bertrand is afraid that the students will combine with the workers and stage strikes all over France. As I am not terribly well just now, we thought it better to be here where at least the hospitals will be available if … if there should be a crisis.’
Flixe shot a look at Ming, whose expression showed that the news was familiar to her. Suppressing her anger, Flixe put her hand gently on Natalie’s and asked about her illness.
‘You didn’t know?’ said Natalie, sounding surprised. Flixe shook her head.
Ming said in dispassionate explanation: ‘Gerry wanted to wait until we could give her better news than Bertrand gave us.’
‘You shouldn’t have kept it from me, Ming.’ Flixe let some of her anger out. ‘I may be a widow but I am not an idiot. I had a right. Natalie, what is it?’
‘It may be nothing, but they think there is perhaps a growth. Perhaps not.’ She laid a hand over her left kidney. ‘Here. I am to have tests while I am in London.’
‘That explains why Bertrand did not telephone me in the first place,’ said Flixe. ‘It struck me as odd as soon as I heard it. Darling, you … you will tell me, won’t you, whatever they say?’
‘Yes.’
Flixe knew that she had been given a promise. They dropped the subject then and talked of easier things, such as Natalie’s daughter, who had recently had her second child. Later Natalie turned to Ming.
‘You know about all the painters in London,’ she said, ‘have you heard about this portrait of Andrew’s girlfriend? He seems to have taken a dislike to it, although he could not tell me why and has seen nothing of it.’
‘Amanda Wallington? I don’t know much about it either, although I gather it’s to form the centrepiece of Comfort Gillingham’s next show.’
‘How do you know that?’ asked Flixe, surprised. ‘Julia will be horrified if it’s given a lot of publicity, though knowing dear little Amanda that’s probably inevitable.’
Ming laughed. ‘One of the dealers I’ve occasionally bought things from was telling me about the portrait. It’s said to be quite superb, although not yet finished. I rather like some of Miss Gillingham’s stuff.’
‘I am not sure that I do. There is something sinister in her paintings that I have seen,’ said Natalie, shivering. ‘But there are not so many in Paris.’
‘Really?’ Flixe was interested. ‘Perhaps I’m not sensitive enough to paintings. Hers seem quite attractive – nice colours – but I can’t say I’ve ever looked particularly carefully.’
‘Too loyal to Julia, eh?’ said Ming with a smile of rather touching approval on her face. Flixe looked doubtful, but after a moment she nodded.
‘In a way, I suppose that’s true. Do you know her, Ming?’
‘Comfort Gillingham? No. We’ve been introduced once or twice, but she moves in rather rarefied circles. Is Julia really upset about the portrait?’
‘I think she’s more bothered by the fact that her daughter has been sucked into the world inhabited by her ex-husband. Quite apart from that, though, she does loathe the way Amanda’s life is trumpeted in the press. Julia thinks that it’s building up unrealisable expectations and that when Amanda comes a cropper, as she’s bound to, it’ll hurt her horribly. But you know Julia: beyond expressing a mild distaste for the idea of the painting, she didn’t try to stop Amanda sitting for it.’
Natalie laughed. As the skin around her eyes crinkled, Flixe noticed again how dry and sallow it had become.
‘From the few things that poor Andrew told me about that young woman, I should think that nothing but a court order could restrain her from doing anything she wanted. Why does he love her, Flixe? She sounds like poison.’
‘I’m not certain. She’s glamorous and apparently can be fun, although I’ve seen no signs of it. I’ve wondered a bit whether it might be her familiarity that makes her seem so important to him.’ Flixe looked at her sister-in-law. ‘Peter’s dying has left Andrew feeling very lost. He’s known Amanda since she was born. Perhaps he’s just trying to cling on to something from the past.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Natalie sadly.
She looked desperately tired and Flixe knew that she ought to go. Ming escorted her to the front door.
‘Try not to worry too much about Natalie,’ Ming said, kissing her sister.
‘That’s not an easy command to obey.’
‘I know,’ said Ming, ignoring her sister’s acerbic tone. ‘But she will have the best care.’
‘What’s the programme?’ asked Flixe more calmly.
‘She’s going to have a series of outpatient tests starting on Wednesday. If it looks bad, they’ll take her in and do a biopsy. Once they know for sure whether there’s a tumour at all, and if so whether it’s malignant, they’ll decide what to do.’
‘You will tell me what happens, won’t you? I don’t want to badger her, but I have to know. I can’t …’
Ming merely nodded, saying, ‘I love her, too, you know.’
Chapter Fourteen
Amanda caught a train to London just before one, planning to fill the boredom of the journey with food. She was relieved to see no one she knew from the university in the dining-car and settled comfortably in a window-seat facing London. A white-jacketed waiter looked slightly surprised to see that she was alone, but he was reasonably polite. Amanda looked disdainfully at the menu, chose the plainest-sounding dish, which was grilled plaice, and ordered herself a half-bottle of Chablis.
She spun out her meal for as long as possible, reading between courses and having several cups of coffee before she eventually paid her bill and allowed the waiter to clear everything from her table except the last glass of wine. The train was due to arrive at Liverpool Street a good deal earlier than her appointment with Comfort, but Amanda wanted to sneak in a meeting alone with Anthony first. She assumed that Comfort would be at the gallery organising – or at least overseeing – the final details of the hanging, so that she could have him to herself.
A taxi from Liverpool Street deposited Amanda outside the Gillinghams’house half an hour earlier than Comfort had stipulated. Anthony answered the front door himself and looked quite taken aback at the sight of the visitor.
‘Hello,’ she said seriously. ‘I hoped you’d be here. Can I come in?’
He stepped aside to allow her into the hall and said: ‘Comfort’s not here. Was she expecting you now? I’m sure she said half past five to me.’
