A Close Connection (5 page)

The rest of the people on the tour group seemed a nice bunch and, meeting some of them again in the hotel bar, Paula was relieved that she had chosen a suitable dress for their first evening meal because they had all scrubbed up well. She had chosen Alan’s outfit for the evening, nothing new there for he had no interest whatsoever in clothes, and she was pleased that he looked as smart as any of the other men; but then in her eyes he always looked pretty good with no signs yet of losing his hair, which was still the same fairish colour, nor of gaining a paunch. He did not visit the gym nor did he exercise that much so it was more to do with luck and good genes than anything else. Her genes were not in the same category and it didn’t seem quite fair for she needed to colour her hair now to cover the grey hairs and she only had to look at a cream cake to gain a few pounds.

She and Alan managed a stroll round the garden in the late-afternoon sunshine but there was no sign of Eleanor and Henry and they were glad about that. They knew it would be difficult, that they would be in each other’s pockets most of the time but they did hope that they might be given a free rein at some point. There were several optional day trips on offer and they might decline some of them if they could get away with it without causing offence.

‘There you are.’ Eleanor powered towards them wearing a long-brightly coloured silk dress cinched at the waist with a broad belt that showed off her slim figure. She was clever with her hair and it was now curling softly around her shoulders but clipped up with a gold pin at one side. Paula was grateful that Eleanor had opted for flat sandals as, with her own high-heeled shoes, their height difference was thus minimized. ‘You look lovely,’ Eleanor said, smiling down at her. ‘What a pretty colour. Doesn’t she look lovely, Henry?’

Henry looked at her appreciatively, taking her in from top
to toe, which made her feel uncomfortable. For some reason, Henry unnerved her. There was something about him that she did not like and her womanly intuition told her to avoid being in a one-to-one situation with him. Alan thought him prickly too, but she was trying to be generous, aware that first impressions could be deceptive and that it was unwise to jump to conclusions. The longest conversation she and Henry had had together had been at the wedding reception when they sat side by side at the top table. Henry made a beautiful speech but then he had a lovely speaking voice although, sitting near to him, she was aware that he was finding it hard to contain his emotion as he spoke about his lovely daughter whom he had just given away. She liked that. It proved he was a father who cared, although judging from the brief embrace she had seen him give his daughter he may not always show his feelings.

Nicola was beautiful, with her mother’s build and her father’s hazel eyes, looking spectacularly beautiful on her wedding day in a simple cream dress. Thinking of what might have been if Lucy had lived had made that moment particularly hard, for she would surely have been a bridesmaid and she had fought to hold back tears knowing as she caught Alan’s gaze that he was thinking precisely what she was thinking.

All these years on, Lucy still intruded into her mind and she wished she had not done so just now as the four of them stood in the bar of the hotel by the lake on the first evening of their holiday.

‘You look very nice, Paula,’ Henry said, prompted by his wife. ‘Good choice.’

‘Thank you.’ Paula stopped herself in time from saying that her dress had been a bargain, reduced significantly because of a tiny flaw that nobody could see unless they were told about it. She must stop doing that, very nearly apologizing to Eleanor for every damned thing. The dress was hyacinth blue,
her favourite colour, and, although her hair would never be in the same category as Eleanor’s she thought the short blunt cut suited her and showed off the pretty, sparkly, dangly earrings that, aside from her wedding band, were her only jewellery.

It did not seem as if their group was going to stick together as couples quickly dispersed once in the dining room but of course the four of them were shown to a table set for four. Predictably, it was not acceptable to Eleanor being in the centre of the room but the waiter was unfazed and found them one which gave them a view of the gardens, the busy coast road and the smooth blue waters of the lake beyond.

‘This reminds me of a hotel we go to a lot near St Ives,’ Eleanor said once they were fussily settled, the waiter pulling out seats for the ladies and being super-attentive. ‘We must take you there sometime. You’ll love it. Do you get over to Cornwall much?’

‘Just as far as Matthew and Nicola’s but not very often to the depths,’ Alan said with a smile. To Paula’s relief, he seemed relaxed but then he was always much more at ease with Nicola’s parents than she was. Their fancy house, the expensive clothes, the travelling, their status in the community … it did nothing for him at all. She had asked Alan how much the Nightingales were worth and he just shrugged, not the least interested. ‘With me working a lot of weekends, we never seem to have the time to do the sights. I don’t suppose you get over to Plymouth much?’

‘No, and never for pleasure.’ Eleanor gave a small shudder. ‘I have to be at the gallery occasionally to check on things but I have to confess I prefer Exeter although nothing compares to Bath, which is my absolute favourite city. Have you been?’

‘We honeymooned there,’ Paula told her, feeling herself blush. Her fair skin easily took on colour which might have been sweet once upon a time but was embarrassing at her age. ‘Alan’s very interested in Roman history.’

‘On his honeymoon?’ Henry laughed and flashed her a look which again unsettled her before turning to his wife. ‘Where the hell did we go for ours, my darling?’

‘We toured France in that blue convertible of yours, as if you don’t know,’ she said, pausing as the waiter arrived to take their orders. Eleanor spoke to him in Italian, which pleased him although he immediately slipped into charming, heavily accented English when he realized that she was the only Italian speaker at their table.

Paula felt a little annoyed that Eleanor felt it necessary to explain the menu to her. It was in Italian of course but there was an English translation, for heaven’s sake, and she wished that Eleanor would not treat her as if she was a complete idiot. She had been to Bella Italia after all, so she was not completely ignorant about pasta and what have you, although Alan was happier with English food or an occasional curry but he gamely ordered the risotto starter.

Henry took it upon himself to choose the wine – taking some considerable time over it – and she supposed she was grateful for that because she knew Alan was no wine connoisseur, although he didn’t mind a drop of decent stuff. Henry’s ‘Would you prefer a beer, Al?’ was received with a mere shake of the head and no comment. She wished Henry would not call him Al, as nobody else did. Underneath the table she felt the pressure of Alan’s leg on hers, knew he was trying to reassure her that it didn’t matter, that the others really were not aware that their attitude could be construed as patronizing and that it just wasn’t worth worrying about.

All this was conveyed in that simple pressure of his leg and she smiled at him, at them, determined to let go and just enjoy the evening.

I
T WAS LATE
, but still warm, on the balcony of their room and, having kicked off her shoes and dress, slipping on a silk dressing gown over her underwear, Eleanor delighted in the feel of the cool tiles against her bare feet, finally feeling relaxed after the long day. Travelling was such a bore, but a necessary evil and now they were here, on the shores of her favourite Italian lake, it was all worthwhile.

She pondered a moment, looking out across the lake as the sun lowered in the sky. There was no activity on the lake, the steamers moored for the night, and everything was very still. The remembered evening scent, the scent of Italy, drifting upwards from the garden reminded her of previous holidays spent here. She loved it all, this Veneto region, Tuscany, Rome of course, and the distinct flavour of the south coast and Capri. It had captured her heart from the very first visit and she adored the beautiful melodic tone of the language; operas were just meant to be sung in this language. Henry loved this country too but not in the romantic way she did, but then, despite the flowery compliments he was capable of from time to time, he did not possess a romantic bone in his body. She wondered if he had ever really loved her or if he had simply succumbed to what was considered a ‘good’ marriage and yes,
that sort of thing did happen even today. She wondered why everybody drew a sharp breath when the words ‘arranged marriage’ were talked of, because they could be very successful as she and Henry had proved. At least that was the way they chose to present it to the world. In truth, she stuck with him and he with her because, as they were also business partners, it was a damned sight easier to do that than to go through the horrors of separation and all it would involve.

She leaned against the parapet and breathed in the evening air. Of the Italian lakes, was this her favourite? Como was much smaller, hemmed in by the mountains, but it had its own charm and Maggiore with its islands and flowers was magnificent but Lake Garda and its position close to Verona and Venice, again rating amongst her favourite cities in the whole world, was special.

‘Good to be back, eh?’ Henry appeared at her side, his hand circling her waist. He had drunk a little too much of the very good wine he had chosen, more than she had anyway, but he could hold his drink. ‘I hope you aren’t going to complain any more about the hotel. I like it and even you couldn’t complain about the food tonight. I thought it was exceptional.’

‘I don’t complain for the sake of it,’ she said. ‘But you’re right. It was a lovely meal.’

‘You look beautiful tonight and you smell gorgeous,’ he said, lifting her hair and nuzzling her neck. ‘I could see old Al eyeing you up.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. He only has eyes for Paula.’

‘More fool him. You were the best-looking woman there tonight. By far.’

‘Was I?’ She laughed low, leaning her head against him. Compliments came easily to Henry, but they were always welcome whether or not he really meant them. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself for a middle-aged man.’

‘Less of that. I don’t feel middle-aged. To tell you the truth,
sometimes these days I feel about a hundred.’

‘That’s work for you.’ Before the nuzzling became too intense, she turned and they went back inside their room. ‘You work too hard and there’s really no need for you to make all those trips to London when we have people there to look after things. You should be thinking about retiring, Henry.’

‘I’m only fifty-bloody-six. And what would I do if I retired? And don’t say play golf because I hate it. I only do it because it’s good for contacts.’

She glanced at him, knowing she had spoilt the mood, for it was true that he had no interests other than the business he had run successfully for the last twenty-five years or so. It was amazing it was going strong in these difficult financial times, but there were still an awful lot of people out there who could afford the small items of furniture and high-class collectibles that they showed and sold in their galleries dotted about the West Country. Henry imported the furniture from abroad, his contacts long established, and they could offer something different that appealed to their clients.

The Internet meant that their client base had broadened; people who returned when they were on the lookout for a difficult-to-find item. They had also attracted the eye of an excellent up-and-coming interior designer in London who now knew exactly where to come when she was on the lookout for a particular item for her clients. Eleanor considered it vulgar to name-drop, but she knew for a fact that a couple of wellknown actors had a few of their collectibles in their homes courtesy of this particular lady.

‘We should have a boardroom in the middle of the golf course for signing contracts,’ Henry went on in a grumbling tone. ‘The number of deals struck between the tenth and eleventh hole is unbelievable. Small-fry stuff admittedly but it all helps. For instance I persuaded Reggie Lord to take on that bloody awful frosted glass ashtray you found in that flea
market in Caen. Who wants an ashtray these days? You can’t give them away, but he was more than happy to part with three hundred and we only paid a few euros, didn’t we?’

‘I know it was frightful but it had the name and the seller had no idea of the significance.’

‘Doesn’t that make you feel guilty?’

‘Why should it? I can’t be held responsible if people don’t do their research. I did tell you somebody would buy it. Let’s not talk about work,’ she said, making an effort to lighten his mood. ‘Not tonight. Do you think Paula and Alan are enjoying it so far?’

‘We’ve only just got here but I think they are, although we could have done without the hoo-hah down in reception. Did you notice Paula’s face? She wanted the floor to swallow her up. My God, Eleanor, you certainly know how to create a scene.’

‘It was a matter of principle.’

He huffed. ‘You and your principles. Anyway, back to Al and for a man who claims to know bugger-all about wine, he certainly seemed to recognize my choice as a good one. Unless he was bluffing of course but I don’t think so.’ He frowned a little. ‘We shouldn’t underestimate him. There might be more to him than meets the eye. He’s brighter than I thought.’

‘I like him,’ she said carefully, knowing that Henry was a jealous man and might misinterpret the remark. ‘For somebody like him, he’s very nice.’

‘Somebody like him?’ Henry laughed. ‘That is one of the reasons I was against this trip. We have nothing in common with the Walkers. Matthew might well be their son, but he has grown away from them and it happened the day he went off to Oxford. It’s a bit sad but there you are. If I didn’t know him better I could say that he’s now a touch ashamed of them, particularly his mother. She doesn’t seem to know much about anything, does she? There’s not a lot between those little ears.’

‘Matthew adores his mother, darling. I think that’s quite a mean thing for you to say. Don’t you remember he told us right away what his father did? He’s not ashamed of it in the least.’

‘Isn’t he? A bloody driving instructor?’

‘At least he runs his own business.’

‘If you can call it that. He’s been near to packing it in a couple of times, he told me. He struggles to make a decent living.’

‘Oh. I thought he was doing rather well.’ She gave him a look. ‘So, you two do talk, then?’

‘We have to talk about something and it’s usually work-based, although I’m not sure he understands much about the art world. Mind you, it’s no picnic what he does. He has nerves of steel. You should hear some of the stories he tells. Thank God for a dual-control car, he says.’ Henry laughed, leaning to switch on the bedside lamps before starting to undress. ‘I’m having a bath. It’s big enough, care to join me?’

‘I’m exhausted. I’ll have a shower in the morning. You can wake me up early if you like?’ she said, tossing him the invitation but making it clear, she hoped, that tonight she just wanted to slip between those covers and go to sleep.

The air conditioning buzzed gently all night long and, in the middle of the night, Eleanor got up and turned it off. Then, taking care not to wake a snoring Henry, she opened the window, much preferring the night noises that crossed the lake.

They were an hour adrift, time-wise, but she rather hoped that Henry would sleep through so that any thoughts of love-making at dawn would have to wait.