The Venetian House, page 49
*
‘You must be Patrick Hammond,’ said Guy now, holding the door open. ‘We’ve corresponded. I know you want to talk to me about Vrahos and I have a suggestion of my own I’d like to put to you so we must get together soon. I’ve been hearing all about this portrait of my grandmother, and my wife and I intend to go and see it next week. It’s an extraordinary story about my grandmother and your uncle and it’s lost nothing in the telling by Victoria, I assure you! Come along in and I’ll give Victoria a shout. I think she and Francine may have gone into the garden.’
He stood back and Patrick went into the hall, his photographer’s eye automatically taking in the details: Continental furniture; modern sculpture; black and white Italian marble floor; dark green walls, white paintwork – very smart, very striking; an interesting collection of drawings – cleverly hung, he noted approvingly.
‘Is that an Ayrton?’ he asked looking at a drawing of Icarus flying too close to the sun.
‘It is indeed. One of the first drawings I ever bought.’ Guy made a wry face: ‘Victoria likes to pretend it’s a picture of me,’ he said, lighting a cigarette and then went on, ‘I think it’s high time I added a Marston to my collection. I’m familiar with his oils, but Vicky was telling me this morning how much she admired some of the drawings you’ve lent for the exhibition. I shall look forward to seeing those too.’
‘Well, I like them – though I’m biased, of course! Hugh’s work has increased amazingly in value lately – not that I think market value is a good criterion for buying pictures. I do enjoy your comments in Capability, by the way, on all sorts of subjects. I never miss your column if I can help it.’
Under cover of this studied politeness they assessed each other. To Francine and Victoria, appearing at that moment, they seemed like two dogs walking round each other stiff-legged, not exactly unfriendly, but sniffing for potential animosity.
Francine was immediately struck by how Victoria and Patrick reacted to each other – not because of any outward demonstration, though they exchanged a social kiss of greeting, but because of an unmistakable feeling of electricity between them. Francine thought she had never seen Victoria illuminated in this way before – as if an inner light had been switched on. She shot a glance at her husband, very sure that he would have noticed it too; anxious as to how he might react.
‘Hi there, Patrick, I’m Francine Winston,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘Good to see you. I’d offer you coffee but I know you want to hijack Victoria for the day and I guess you’ll be wanting to get off. Why don’t you drop by for a drink when you bring her back, if you’ve got time? Have fun both of you.’
She and Guy stood together on the steps and watched as Patrick and Victoria drove off. Guy put his arm round his wife as they walked back into the house.
‘That was very adroitly stage-managed, Mrs Winston, wafting them away so speedily,’ he said, glinting at her sardonically. ‘You were afraid I might behave badly and antagonise him, weren’t you?’
‘I sure was,’ she said, ‘BUT you didn’t. And that was pretty big of you, darling, because I have a gut feeling this is really important for Victoria and I guess you picked up on it too. I know you won’t find it easy, but you have to let your little cousin go – and if you do, you’re actually much less likely to lose her. I guarantee that.’
‘I’ll take note of your pearls of wisdom then, oh wise-one,’ he said lightly, the half-mocking expression that she knew so well on his face. He looked at her, suddenly serious. ‘And I get your message loud and clear – so don’t think I don’t know what you’re not quite saying,’ he said: ‘that I’ve done enough damage already and mustn’t wreck her life any further. It’s all right, Francine. I can’t put the clock back, and it’s too late for poor old Richard – but I know what I’ve done to Vicky and that I’m not forgiven yet. She’s made that pretty clear lately.’
‘Tell you what,’ said Francine, on the whole not dissatisfied with his reaction, ‘I’ve just had a smart idea. Why don’t we go off to the Crompton Gallery and see the famous portrait this morning? Then you can give your grandmother your reaction next time you ring her? I’d love to go.’
‘Yes, great idea,’ said Guy. ‘Let’s do that.
Patrick took Victoria to the Hind’s Head at Bray where they sat outside drinking Pimm’s and rejoicing in each other’s company. Though the food at lunch was delicious, Victoria was in such a trance of happiness that she might have been given blotting paper to eat for all that she would have noticed. She couldn’t believe she’d ever been worried that she might find conversation difficult. She felt not only could she talk to Patrick with the ease that normally only comes after knowing someone for years, but with an added excitement that lent wings to everything they said to each other.
Sophie had rung in the middle of lunch to say she and Sam had been invited to spend the whole day with the Burnabys and Matthew’s father had offered to give them a lift back to London after supper. Was that all right, she had asked anxiously. Patrick said it was very much all right and switched off his mobile with a feeling of relief.
‘Shall we take a boat and go on the river?’ he suggested after they’d had coffee, longing to get her away from their fellow diners, with no fear of interruptions. It seemed a perfect idea to Victoria.
Chugging lazily up the Thames with nothing more adventurous than a few locks to negotiate seemed the ideal occupation for a perfect English summer afternoon. Of course they discussed the previous evening, and talked about Hugh’s paintings.
‘You made a big impression last night,’ Patrick told her. ‘I had Hugh on the telephone before I came to pick you up. He sent you his love.’
They laughed together about Peter Mason’s obvious biggame hunting of the physically tiny Prince Haroun round the gallery and she told him about her misgivings over Peter’s suggestions for her future and her anxiety about going back to Manor Farm the following week. ‘It’s something I’ve been able to put off while I’ve been at Vrahos,’ she said. ‘But I know I have to get it over and face my demons. I’m hoping going there may exorcise a few of them.’
‘Have you given much thought to where you want to live?’ he asked.
‘I know what I think I’d like to do – but it’s difficult. One moment people tell me it’s foolish to take any decision in under a year after a bereavement, and the next there seems to be pressure to fit in with what everyone else thinks I ought to do. And I’m very conscious that whatever I decide I have to get it right for Jake.’
‘And what do you think you’d like to do?’
‘I think I’d like to base ourselves at Vrahos for the next two or three years. Jake adores the school – every evening when I ring up he’s full of what he’s been doing and he’s rapidly becoming bilingual. But he’s not seven yet so I feel there’d be plenty of time to reconsider if it doesn’t work out. We can keep Nonna company, which would mean a lot to her and to me. I have to face the fact that it may not be possible to keep Vrahos when she dies but at least I’ll be learning about it and can help her with the administration of the estate now – or what’s left of it. It doesn’t look as if I’d be allowed to stay in our old house at Baybury even if I wanted to. Richard and I didn’t actually own anything ourselves. It all belongs to a family trust.’
‘That sounds eminently reasonable to me. You can surely do all that without having to make irreversible decisions too soon.’
‘Ideally I suppose I’d like to have a small pad in England too but I doubt if I’ll be able to afford that and I can always stay with Guy’s parents. Yes, you’re right. I don’t have to burn any boats. Perhaps I’ve been getting in a state about nothing.’
‘Sometimes it takes an outsider to see these things,’ he said gently. ‘Take it as it comes. See how you feel next week – and don’t let anyone rush you.’
Once more she was struck by his kindness and concern, but how did he really feel about her? She thought she knew, but hardly dared to trust her instincts, terrified that she might make another mistake in her life and get mortally hurt again. Tentatively she asked him about Rachel, and Patrick found himself acknowledging things that he’d hardly dared admit, even to himself. Victoria listened quietly, occasionally prompting him with a question, but building up a picture of a marriage that had started to fray at the edges a long time ago. He told her about Bronwen and his fears that Rachel might still do something foolish and get badly hurt herself in the process.
‘What has really shaken me,’ he said, ‘which I only discovered about this morning, is that she’s proposing to swan off to Spain after this woman, and was prepared to take Posy too. Luckily her mother rang to warn me. I have to face the fact that Rachel really only thinks about herself.’
‘Might you ever get back together, for Posy’s sake, do you think?’ asked Victoria.
‘No,’ said Patrick with great finality. ‘Not now. When I went home after Corfu I made up my mind to make one last effort to sort out our marriage – though it’s not what I wanted for myself for … well … for various reasons.’ He looked at Victoria, and she dropped her eyes and looked away. Patrick went on: ‘But Rachel wouldn’t have it and when she announced she wanted a separation I have to admit I was relieved. Surprised and saddened, but hugely relieved. What I heard this morning is the final straw. I’ll always help Rachel if I can and do my best to keep on good terms with her because of the children – but live together again … no way. She may change her mind – she usually does – but it’s too late for me. I’m sure about that now.’
‘How will Sam and Sophie feel about it?’
‘Sam will mind – but he’ll be all right. He’s nearly twenty and very happy at Newcastle. He’s always been gregarious and has lots of friends. Sam’s a great extrovert and he and Rachel have been at loggerheads since the day he was born. But Sophie’s another matter altogether, because underneath all the froth and giggles she’s much more insecure. All her life she’s longed to please her mother – and mostly failed. She’s often deeply resentful of Rachel but she won’t find a parting between us easy to accept. Also she’s always been jealous of Posy – with good reason – and I don’t know how she’ll react now that I’ll have to be more hands-on with Posy myself. I suppose Posy will need to be based mainly with her mother, though. I shall really mind that,’ he said, and Victoria thought he looked very sad.
‘I was surprised this morning,’ Patrick went on, ‘because Sophie’s first reaction was to feel sorry for her little sister and I thought it was pretty big of her under the circumstances.’ And Patrick told her about the saga of the bedrooms when they had got back from Corfu.
Victoria felt furiously indignant on Sophie’s behalf.
‘How will you cope with Posy when you do have her on your own?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know. We’ve had wonderful help from a very nice local girl up to now, but she obviously hated being with my inlaws and she’s just left. She might come back, though – I hope so. I just pray Rachel and I will be able to work things out in a reasonably civilised way. Luckily our lawyer is a great friend – the one who owns Petradi – and I’m going to suggest to Rachel tomorrow that we consult him and get him to come up with some suggestions. I don’t suppose it’ll be easy, though.’
Victoria thought this was probably an understatement to say the least, but it was not something she wanted to dwell on at the moment.
It was very hot and they decided to pull into the bank and tie up under the shade of a willow tree. There were cushions in the boat and Patrick had brought a rug, so they stretched out on the bank where they could watch other boats going up and down, and the occasional swan gliding along the green surface of the Thames.
‘Tell me about Richard,’ said Patrick. ‘What really happened?’
Haltingly at first she told him about her own marriage; starting with the shared childhood and the bonds forged between three children; about her reliance on Richard and how they were both in thrall to Guy; of how they drifted into marriage, and continued to do things as a threesome. He got the picture of a marriage based on friendship, and if he privately thought that no fires had been lit, that was something of a relief. She told him of Richard’s unexpectedly violent reaction to Guy’s marriage and Jeff’s terrible discovery: finding him near the wood after his gun had exploded; of her growing conviction that he had intended to take his own life. Finally she told him of the day when Guy had confirmed her suspicions, and had then told her why, sitting among the ruins of Angelokastro high above the sea, and of her feelings of shock and outrage; the sensation that her life was in ruins too – and not just the future but the past as well. Sometimes her voice was so low – scarcely more than a whisper – that he had to strain to catch what she said. He was horrified at what he was hearing, both explicitly and in what she left unsaid.
‘I felt as if all my married life had not only been taken away but had been … tarnished. Had been a sham all along only I’d been too blind to see it,’ she said. ‘And I felt so betrayed – by both of them. But just lately I’ve thought that I was terribly at fault too and that I short-changed Richard as much as he short-changed me. I married him for all the wrong reasons – and a bit of me always knew it. I’m not proud of that. I’ve felt so bitter towards him, but unlike Guy, Richard was basically a good kind man – actually a loving person – and he must have been desperately unhappy to do what he did, even if I never understand how he could possibly do such a thing to Jake. I need to feel I’ve mourned him properly – I owe him that at least – but how do you mourn for someone who wasn’t who you thought they were?’
She shivered and gripped her hands tightly together in an effort to stop them trembling.
‘Don’t make it so complicated,’ suggested Patrick. ‘Grieve for the person you thought he was at the time – the kind protector; your childhood friend; someone who loved you very much in the only way he could; Jake’s father – your companion. That is the person you have lost. Just mourn for that loss – God knows it’s enough. The other Richard was outside your knowledge or control.’
‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘I suppose you’re right. Thank you –that helps.’
‘And what about Guy?’ he asked, gazing up at the sky, concentrating on watching one particular cloud change shape, very much needing to know what her real feelings for her cousin were now.
‘Ah … Guy. That’s complicated – or at least it used to be. But something surprising has happened lately. I was dreading coming to stay with him and Francine. Dreading what effect it might have on me to see Guy with a wife; dreading my own jealousy – especially because she’s going to have a baby and I so longed for another one myself. But it hasn’t turned out like that. I shall always love Guy as a cousin, but in an extraordinary way I feel as if I’ve been released from him. I still feel sick when I think of him and Richard, and I still feel terribly angry with Guy but I no longer feel in his power. If I’m honest there’s a bit of me that’s quite enjoying the feeling that for the first time in my life it’s him that wants to make peace with me – not me endlessly waiting for his sun to shine on me again. For as long as I can remember I’ve tapped the barometer of Guy’s moods. Stormy? Take cover. Changeable? Walk carefully. Set fair? Oh bliss, enjoy it while it lasts! Now, suddenly it doesn’t matter. It’s like being cured of a drug addiction.’
‘He sounds an absolute shit to me,’ said Patrick frankly.
‘He’s not really,’ she said quickly. ‘He can be – but he has another side to him too, I promise you.’
‘I’ll have to take your word for it,’ he said. For someone who’d just been cured of an addiction he thought she sounded very defensive of her cousin. ‘He’s certainly a talented journalist. Will he be able to make Francine happy, d’you think?’
She looked rather surprised. ‘How awful – I’ve never really thought of that,’ she admitted. ‘He’s certainly capable of inflicting wounds on anyone who loves him, but I’ve always thought of her as being well able to look after herself. Guy may have met his match with Francine in every sense. I think she’s actually helped to free me from my fixation on him.’
‘I liked the look of her,’ said Patrick, privately hoping that he might have contributed a little himself to the fraying of the bonds that had bound Victoria to her cousin. ‘She’s very glamorous and she was extremely friendly. I had a feeling she was trying to support you.’
‘Well, she’s certainly gone out of her way to be nice to me. Do you think she’s very attractive then?’ asked Victoria, plucking a piece of grass and winding it round her finger.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, ‘I can see she’s got quite a message but I only met her very briefly and she’s not really my type.’ He sat up and studied Victoria’s face and was amazed at the look of uncertainty he saw on it. ‘But she could never even hold a candle to you,’ he said softly, ‘and I think you must know that.’
‘No,’ she said forlornly. ‘I don’t know that. People always think I’m sure of myself, but I’m not inside. Since we were first married I’ve always felt Richard’s lack of passion was somehow my fault – that there had to be some lack in me that made him seem so … so unresponsive. Do you know what that’s done to me?’ She looked distraught. ‘It’s taken away any confidence I ever had in myself,’ she said fiercely, ‘as a woman, I mean.’
‘That’s ridiculous! You of all people! Surely after all these revelations about Richard, and now that you know how he felt about women sexually, you can’t still feel it was because there was anything lacking in you?’
She said nothing but he could see she was close to tears.
