Act of Will (48 page)

‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ Miles said finally, and reluctantly released her hand, adding, ‘I’ve heard a great deal about you—from my sister. She wears your clothes.’

‘Your sister?’ she repeated, feeling like an imbecile for not knowing who his sister was.

He said, ‘Yes, Susan Radley.’

‘Lady Radley?’ she asked and felt even more foolish.

He smiled, as if amused. ‘Yes.’ He glanced at Ralph, said, ‘I wouldn’t mind that drink, old chap, if you would show me where the bar is I’ll—’

‘No, no, stay where you are, Miles,’ Ralph insisted. ‘What would you like?’

‘Scotch, I think, with a splash of soda. Thanks, Ralph.’

Ralph Sedgewick looked at Christina. ‘You haven’t touched your cognac, my dear. Would you prefer something else perhaps?’

‘Please… a glass of champagne would be nice.’ She suddenly wished Ralph would not go away and leave her alone with this man who continued to stare at her with his curiously hypnotic eyes.

They were alone on the terrace.

Miles smiled a lazy sort of smile, gave her a long, searching look, as if answering a question in his own mind, then took out a packet of cigarettes. He offered her one silently. She shook her head.

After striking a match, drawing on the cigarette, he said in that same amused, superior voice, ‘Your newspaper photographs don’t do you justice, don’t you know… they make you look much older too… and tell me, how do you manage to cope with our national press? I find them a bit pesky myself, at times.’

Christina ignored the backhanded compliment he had paid her, said carefully, ‘
I
find the press—wonderfully well, thank you very much. They’re certainly extremely decent to me, but then I’m not a brilliant politician who’s always making national news.’

‘
Touché
.’ He laughed, moved closer to her and leaned
against the stone balustrade, his posture nonchalant. He said, ‘That choker you’re wearing… are those moon-stones?’

Startled that
he
would ask a question about clothes, she said, ‘No, they’re just grey glass beads, but I liked the milky effect they have, that’s why I bought them.’

‘Do you ever wear opals?’

She shook her head.

He stared at her, his gaze speculative, appraising, bold.

She found herself returning his stare unblinkingly.

He said at last in a low, quick voice, ‘You should, you know. Opals would look lovely against that extraordinary skin… with those extraordinary eyes…’

Christina was startled. She could not answer him. Her legs needed support. She sat down on the balustrade.

Miles Sutherland could not tear his eyes away from her. She touched him in a way that he had not been touched in years and he felt curious stirrings within himself. His physical desire for her was hot and urgent.

To Christina’s immense relief Ralph walked out onto the terrace carrying their drinks.

She sat sipping her champagne, listening to the murmur of their voices as they spoke at length about British politics. But she was not really hearing anything at all. She was studying Miles Sutherland, wondering what it was about the man that so unnerved her. Was it his great presence? Force of personality? Charisma? She was not certain. He was not the most handsome man she had ever met, but he did have an attractive face, lean, intelligent, composed of uneven planes and angles. His hair was a dark blondish-brown that had a hint of grey at the sides. Slim and lean in build, he was not much taller than she was, only about an inch or so in fact.

It was his eyes, of course, that so mesmerized, had a
spellbinding effect. They were a lovely clear blue that reminded her of an English sky on a summer day.

The two men continued to talk for a while, and she listened, let his voice roll over her, absorbing it, committing it to memory. It was full of shadings and nuances and inflections. She pictured him speaking in the Commons.

And suddenly Miles was standing in front of her, saying goodnight.

‘It was so nice to meet you,’ he said in a distant voice.

Christina slid off the balustrade, took his hand, shook it briskly. ‘I enjoyed meeting you,’ she said, forcing cheerfulness, and followed him into the house, her arm tucked through Ralph’s companionably.

Later, when she was in bed, she wondered why she was feeling so disappointed and let down.

Jane exclaimed, ‘What a nerve he’s got, strolling in here, trying to seduce you!’

‘He didn’t stroll in,’ Christina corrected. ‘He phoned me at Bruton Street. And he’s not trying to seduce me.’

‘Oh yes he is.’

‘Don’t be so silly, Janey… over lunch?’ Christina began to laugh.

‘
After
lunch,’ Jane cried fiercely. ‘The French call it a
matinée
.’

‘This is London, not Paris, remember?’

Jane chewed her inner lip nervously. ‘My God, Mummy would have a fit—she’d be absolutely furious if she knew. After all, you met him through us down at Hadley.’

‘You’re not going to tell her?’ Christina sounded horrified.

‘Of course I’m not.’ Jane looked at her askance. ‘God, you can be stupid at times, Crowther… and you’ll certainly be
bloody
stupid if you go out with Miles Sutherland.’

‘
Why?
’

‘Because he’s dangerous. Emotionally dangerous. I just know it in my bones.’

‘You’re the one who’s being stupid now, and far-fetched.
How can he possibly be dangerous to me?’ Christina demanded.

‘He’s married, for one thing.’

‘Estranged, separated. Everybody knows that. It was all over the newspapers ages ago.’

‘But he’s not
divorced
, Christie.’

‘I don’t know why you’re acting this way, Jane, I really don’t. Miles seems to be a nice man, and I’m sure he’s decent and honourable too.’

Jane let out a guffaw. ‘I bet he’s a cad.’

Christina gaped at her. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you today, making such sweeping statements.’

Jane stared at her dearest friend. ‘Okay, let’s go over a few facts. Miles Sutherland is good-looking and charming and he cuts quite a swathe at parties, I’ll grant you that. But let’s not forget that he also cuts quite a swathe in the House of Commons and that he is a brilliant and ambitious politician.’

‘I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at, Janey.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, Christina, don’t be so bloody dense! There happens to be a woman in his life already, a woman called Candida Sutherland, who is his wife and the mother of his three brats. Who just happens to be the daughter—actually the only child—of one of Britain’s foremost industrialists. She’s got pots and pots and
pots
of money, and if—’

‘I
know
all that.’

‘And you can be damned sure that Miles Sutherland
knows
which side
his
bread is buttered on, my darling. Oh yes. When a man’s a Member of Parliament and a leading light in the Labour Party, with a spectacular career unfolding, his wife’s money comes in very useful indeed. Do you think he’s going to jeopardize all that—’

‘Jane, stop this!’ Christina spluttered. ‘You’re being absolutely preposterous.’ She let out a funny little laugh and eyed Jane curiously. ‘The way
you’re
talking, anybody would think we’re having a wild affair when—’

‘I bet he’d love that! Miles Sutherland looks very randy to me.’

‘—when I hardly know the man. Besides, he’s only invited me to lunch.’

Jane looked at her through narrowed violet eyes. ‘When a man like Miles Sutherland invites a woman like you to lunch, he has only
one thing
on his mind and it’s certainly not buying you a decent meal.’

‘I am going to have lunch with him, Jane, no matter what you say,’ Christina asserted in a firm tone.

‘I wish you wouldn’t… You just won’t be able to cope with it.’

‘With
what?
’

‘His bloody fatal charm and sophistication and smooth talk and all that sort of codswallop. Don’t forget, he’s a politician.’

‘I can take care of myself, Jane.’

‘No, you can’t.’

Christina said slowly, almost reflectively, ‘My mother had a friend once—Gwen.
Auntie
Gwen I used to call her when I was little. They were very close when they were young women, nurses at Ripon Fever Hospital. They really cared rather deeply for each other. But Gwen never did like Daddy much, which naturally made Mummy furious, and then Gwen married some awful twerp called Geoffrey Freemantle. Anyway, Geoffrey sort of came between them too, as my father had, in a way.’

Christina paused, took a deep breath. ‘And I just don’t want that to happen to
us
, Janey, I really don’t. So let’s make a pact right now. Let’s agree that men will
never
come between us. Let’s try and be above all that sort of thing. What do you think?’

‘Oh Christie darling, of course I agree with you completely! We mustn’t let the men we get involved with make one single ripple between us.’

***

Later that evening Christina and Jane went to Le Matelot in Belgravia for dinner.

They both liked the little bistro. It reminded them of their trip to the South of France the month before.

As they sipped their glasses of white wine, waiting for the first course, Jane asked, ‘What happened to her?’

‘Who?’ Christina looked puzzled.

‘Your mother’s friend—Gwen.’

‘Oh gosh, Janey, that’s quite a sad story really. Her life wasn’t very happy with the Geoffrey person. He turned out to be a wife beater, for one thing.’

‘My God, how awful!’ Jane exclaimed, looking horror-struck.

‘Yes, it was.’ Christina leaned her elbows on the table, said, ‘When I was small Mummy began to suspect there was something odd going on there, at least that’s what she told me when I was grown up. You see, poor Auntie Gwen was always having these terrible accidents… falling down the staircase, or the cellar steps, or some such thing, and it began to worry my mother. At first she thought Gwen had an illness, you know a brain tumour or something like that, and then it finally dawned on her. And she tackled Gwen about it, but of course Gwen denied it, and that’s when we stopped going to see her.’

‘And what happened to Gwen in the end?’ Janey asked.

‘During the war she came to see us. Unexpectedly. I remember it very well because she brought me some pretty glass beads. I must have been about ten or eleven
at the time. Anyway, she came for tea and stayed the evening, and after I’d gone to bed she apparently told my mother everything. I think she must have been at the end of her tether by then. Eventually Mummy persuaded her to move back to live with her parents, although I believe
that
took a lot of doing.’ Christina sat back, took a sip of wine.

Jane said, ‘Go on… I’ll kill you if you don’t finish the story.’

‘My mother talked to Gwen’s brother, Charlie,’ Christina explained, ‘and he told the husband that he’d better not come near Gwen again. Not ever. And he didn’t.’

‘And she got a divorce.’

‘No, but the Geoffrey fellow was killed during the war. He wasn’t in the forces, but he was here in London on some business, in 1944 I think it was, and he was killed during a bombing raid.’

‘And where’s Gwen now? What happened to her in the end?’

Christina smiled, and her eyes lit up. ‘Her story had a happy ending really, Janey. She married my Uncle Mike in 1952. He was a widower by then and he’d been inconsolable after my Aunt Laurette died in 1948, and very lonely. It was my mother who persuaded him to join them for dinner with Gwen. You see, years before
they’d
gone out together. I suppose you could say they picked up where they left off.’

‘Hardly that,’ Jane said with a laugh. ‘But I
am
glad her life finally turned around… poor woman.’ After a short pause, she said, ‘Christie, about Miles—’

‘What about him?’

‘When are you having lunch with him?’

‘Friday—the day after tomorrow,’ Christina said.

Jane sat back and grimaced, eyeing her friend in
concern. ‘That’s the day I leave for New York, and since I’m booked on the ten o’clock flight, you’d better call me later in the day and tell me what happens. I shall be all ears!’

Christina burst out laughing. ‘Oh Jane, you are impossible. Nothing’s going to happen… but I’ll phone you anyway to make sure
you’re
all right, that you’ve arrived safely in little old Manhattan.’

‘Do you find Miles so irresistible, Christie? I mean, are you madly attracted to him?’ Jane probed.

‘He’s quite attractive,’ Christina murmured, wanting to sound as noncommittal as possible, not daring to confide her true feelings in Jane.

***

He cancelled the lunch at the last minute.

‘I’m so frightfully sorry to do this,’ he said in an apologetic voice when he telephoned her on Friday morning, ‘but I can’t meet you today as we arranged. Something’s come up… it’s all become
rather
complicated. Do forgive me, Christina. Another time perhaps?’

‘Oh,’ Christina said, gripping the receiver much tighter, sitting down behind the desk in her studio at the Bruton Street house.

‘I say, I have a much better idea!’ Miles exclaimed, as if something brilliant had just struck him. ‘Why don’t we have
dinner
next week? Instead of lunch. I see from my calendar that I’m awfully jammed with luncheon engagements… what about having dinner with me on Tuesday evening?’

‘I’d love to Miles, but I can’t,’ Christina said genuinely regretful. ‘You see I’m going to Paris on Monday.’

Disbelief echoed in his laughter. ‘Paris in July. You’re going to find that all the Parisians have fled. There’ll be no one there but American tourists.’

‘I’m going on business,’ she explained softly, feeling
her disappointment about the cancelled lunch so acutely that her throat was tight.

‘Business or pleasure, it’s still one of my favourite cities. When do you plan to return?’

‘In about ten days.’

‘Then I shall give you a ring in… let’s say two weeks? Is that all right, Christina?’

‘Yes, that’ll be lovely, Miles.’

After she had hung up she stared at the phone for a long time. It troubled her that he aroused such strong feelings in her.