Almost a Crime (58 page)

off the hand, and he looked at her with something so close

to hatred she was almost frightened.

‘Well, whatever you may feel about that, I didn’t. Might

she be at the cottage?’

‘Do you think I haven’t tried there?’ he said. ‘Marianne,

we’re wasting valuable time. I think we should go to the

police.’

‘We can’t do that. Surely. It has to be Tom. He’s her

husband, he’s her next-of-kin.’

‘For what it’s worth. In any case, Tom is on his way to

Gloucestershire. He appears to be rather more worried

about his mistress than his wife!’

‘Felix, that is so unfair.’

‘It is not unfair,’ he said, his voice rising now to a roar,

‘and I will not have you passing any more judgments on

me, Marianne. I find your contribution, or rather your lack

of contribution, to this whole affair absolutely incomprehensible.

The best thing you can do from now on is stay

right out of it. I’m going to my office. Octavia might phone

me there. Please contact me at once if you hear anything:

anything at all.’

She was standing between him and the door; he pushed

her out of the way so violently she almost fell over.

Marianne finally lost her temper.

‘How dare you!’ she said, her voice low and rich with

rage. ‘How dare you behave like this. When I am trying—’

‘You are not trying to do anything so far as I can make

out,’ said Felix, ‘except possibly obstruct my efforts to help

my daughter.’

‘Felix, I am not obstructing your efforts to help her. I am

querying your methods. Which are intrusive, and, in my

view, dangerous. And however you view my behaviour, it

does not entitle you to manhandle me physically. Please do

go. And don’t come back until you feel able to apologise to

me

‘I think it is you who should be making apologies,’ said

Felix, ‘to Octavia, as well as to me. What you have shown

towards her is a near criminal irresponsibility.’

‘Oh, please!’ said Marianne. ‘That is a truly disgusting

observation.. Just get out, will you, Felix? If I hear anything

of or from Octavia I’ll call your secretary or your

housekeeper. I have absolutely no desire to speak to you.

Today, or indeed ever again.’

He stood there for a long moment, just staring at her, his

face white, working with rage. Then he turned and she

heard him running down the stairs and out of the front

door, slamming it viciously behind him.

‘What on earth is going on?’ said Nico Cadogan. ‘Nobody

will speak to me. I leave crucial messages for Tom, asking

him to ring me urgently, and I’m told he’s out of town on

urgent business. I ring you, and your daughter tells me you can’t come to the phone, that must be the younger one,

more helpful than the other. I try Felix, and he won’t speak

to me either. Have I been blackballed by the whole of

London? Should I fall on my sword?’

‘No,’ said Marianne, smiling for the first time that day.

‘God, Nico, I don’t know where to begin. I’m sorry I

didn’t speak to you earlier, but I was — upset.’

‘Upset? What about?’

‘Just about everything. Oh, Nico, it would be so nice to

see you. Is lunch still on?’

‘Of course. That’s why I was ringing you. I’ve got a table

booked at the Ritz. Meet me there at twelve thirty. Do you

know where Tom is, by the way?’

‘I think possibly in the emergency department of

Gloucester Hospital,’ said Marianne soberly.

‘I just wondered,’ said Philip Thorburn, Nico Cadogan’s

accountant, or, as he preferred to style himself, financial

adviser, ‘if you’d noticed the share price has gone up again.’

‘I hadn’t actually. Not today. Rather a lot of other things

on my mind. But I’m delighted to hear it. Clearly our

message is getting through. The shareholders must be

pleased.’

‘Very. Quite a lot of movement in the shares as well, I’m

told. Of course that always happens when there’s a bid. Any

news from your chappie about the referral?’

‘No, not yet. Nothing concrete anyway. But he’s pretty

confident.’

‘Good. Well, tell him about this, won’t you?’

‘I will when I can get hold of him,’ said Nico, a touch of

irritation in his voice.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’

Charles Madison looked at Tom rather dully as he

walked into the Casualty waiting area. Tom eyed him

warily back. How much did he know, how much did he

have to tell him?

‘I couldn’t get hold of Octavia. So I thought it might

help if I came instead.’

‘Very good of you. Very good.’

So he didn’t know. Anything. Thank Christ. He would

have to, of course, but not now, not here…

‘How — how is she?’

‘Oh, they don’t really know yet. Poor child. Poor, poor

child. Tom, why, why should she have done such a thing?

When she was pregnant, when things were going to get

better for her?’

‘I suppose she’s — well she’d had a lot to bear,’ said Tom.

‘Yes, of course. But last night she seemed brighter. She

came over, you know, and Octavia came down. She didn’t

want to see her, tried to make me say she wasn’t here, don’t

know why, but Octavia just arrived, and after that Louise

seemed happier. She was thinking of going-over to France,

to see Sandy. Poor chap — dreadful shock for him.’

‘Have you spoken to him?’

‘Oh, yes. He’s on his way. Should be here by late

afternoon. He’s such a good man. I feel so sorry for him.’

Tom’s stomach heaved. ‘Yes.’

‘Have you spoken to Octavia yet?’

‘No. But she’s on her way to the cottage apparently. I’ve

left a message for her.’

‘Her father seemed in a terrible state when I spoke to

him. Have you told him you’ve tracked her down?’

‘Yes.’

‘Must have been relieved.’

‘Er-yes.’

Relieved, yes. And then a bitter, vile attack.

‘So - Octavia’s at the cottage, is she? I did leave a

message there.’

Oh, God. That was how Octavia would get the news,

unless he could speak to her first; from an answering

machine. The message that her best friend, the one who

had been sleeping with her husband, had now taken an

overdose. It would be almost unendurable.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, and half ran down the corridor pulling out his mobile.

‘It all sounds rather like one of those splendid Greek

tragedies,’ said Nico, smiling at her over his glass, ‘only

rather less stylish. Come on, you’re not drinking your

champagne. You need it.’

‘Nico! How can you talk about style in connection with

such things?’

‘Sorry. Am I not taking your family affairs seriously

enough? What did she take, this girl?’

‘Sleeping pills apparently.’

‘Couldn’t possibly kill her,’ said Nico complacently. ‘Just

wanted to upset everyone. No intention of dying.’

‘Nico, how do you know?’

‘I’m frightfully well informed on such matters. As on

most things. My mother was a doctor.’

‘Your mother!’

‘Yes. Don’t look so surprised. You Americans always

think you’ve invented female emancipation.’

‘I’m only half American and I don’t,’ said Marianne

irritably. ‘Nico, I’m not really up to being;—’ She stopped

suddenly. ‘Oh, dear, I don’t want to start quarrelling with

you as well.’

‘Did you actually quarrel with Felix?’

‘Actually, yes. Yes, I did.’

‘Good. That’s the best news I’ve had all day,’ said Nico,

sitting back with an expression of great satisfaction.

‘Nico!’

‘Well, it is. It seems to me he treats you very badly.

Everyone seems to treat you badly. You are obviously far

too nice for your own good. In any case, I intend to treat

you extremely well, to make up for the rest of them.

Anyway, let’s not talk about Felix any more, I think we are

both on slightly unstable moral ground so far as he is

concerned. What are we going to do about poor old Tom,

do you think?’

‘I really don’t think Tom deserves any sympathy

whatsoever,’ said Marianne.

‘I disagree. I think he deserves a great deal. His business is

clearly in serious trouble, through very little fault of his own

as far as I can tell, and with Felix determined to finish it off

with great speed, there seems little hope for it. And then he

is caught in this dreadful marital tangle—’

‘He’s caught in it! Nico, please! That is entirely of his

own making. He’s behaved appallingly. Octavia is the most

wonderful wife. Loyal, clever, supportive, she’s a wonderful

mother—’

‘And not a lot of fun, I suspect?’

‘Nico, if you think not being fun is grounds for adultery

- anyway, how can you possibly know?’

‘I have observed her. I’m sure she is extremely virtuous.

She is also very attractive. But nervy, difficult. A trifle

humourless, perhaps? Anyway, let us look at this affair from

Tom’s position. There he is, caught up in this intense high

profile ten-year-old marriage. With a nightmare of a father-in-law

for whom he can do nothing right. A hugely

demanding, difficult business to run. And along comes this

extremely pretty girl, fun, flirtatious, finding him terribly

attractive, looking for a diversion from her own marriage.

He’s flattered, he’s charmed, he wants to please her in

return, he suggests lunch, things go one step beyond that,

just one and he’s had it. Poor sod. She’s clearly completely

potty.’

‘Do you think so?’ said Marianne soberly.

‘Well, of course. Look at all the dreadful things she’s

done. So he’s trapped, helplessly so.’

‘But, Nico, she’s Octavia’s best friend.’

‘I know. That’s bad. On both their parts. Don’t get me

wrong, I do feel very sorry for Octavia. But I still think you

should have some — understanding — about what has

happened to Tom. He made one fatal mistake, took one

step too near the edge of the quicksands and he was done

for, sucked down with no hope whatsoever of getting free

again. Poor bugger. And now Felix Miller is going to have

his head up on a stake on Tower Bridge. I really do feel very sorry for him.’

He sat back, looked at her.

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I would like to help Tom, from a

business point of view at least, and I intend to if I can. I just

felt I had to make that quite clear, so that you knew where I

stood. Now let us not waste any more time talking about

other people. I can’t tell you how much I am looking

forward to our day on Saturday. I have found a few more

houses I want to look at, so it’s all going to take quite a long

time, make us rather late for our dinner.’

Octavia stood leaning on the desk, thinking she would

never again be able to look at answering machine without

feeling sick.

She would have said, had anyone asked her, that nothing

could have upset her further; but the news, delivered in

Charles Madison’s gentlemanly voice, that Louise had taken

an overdose and was in hospital, had horrified her almost

beyond anything. In that first moment, and for a few

moments more, she remembered Louise not as treacherous

enemy but loyal friend, loving, kind friend, saw her face not

obscenely twisted in misery and revenge, but sweetly,

generously smiling.

Then she moved on; remembered with her emotions as

well as her mind, squared this new horror up with the new

hatred and was surprised to find she was still upset and

shocked.

She thought of Sandy, poor, innocent, well-meaning

Sandy; of Charles, faced with a double loss; of Dickon, most

of all: he had had to endure so much in his rather sad little

short life. And of Tom: what would this do for him, how

would he feel, would he be grieving, shocked — and did she

care?

The phone rang sharply; she picked it up.

‘Octavia Fleming.’

‘Octavia? It’s Tom.’

‘Is there any more news yet? Of Louise?’

‘No. She’s still alive. Can’t tell you any more than that.

Sorry.’

‘Yes, you must be. Sorry, I mean. Where are you?’

‘At the hospital.’

‘Oh, I see. Yes.’

‘Octavia, are you all right?’

‘I’m absolutely all right. Yes. Of course. First I find it’s

my best friend you’re having an affair with, then I hear she’s

tried to kill herself

‘What did you say to Louise last night?’

‘That is nothing to do with you.’

‘Of course it is.’

‘It is not. Look - let me know if there’s any more news.

I’ll be here till tonight.’

‘You — wouldn’t think of…’

‘Wouldn’t think of what?’

‘Well, coming here? To the hospital?’,.””

‘No,’ she said, and her voice was very hard and flat now.

‘I absolutely wouldn’t think of it.’

Sandy finally reached the hospital at five o’clock; Louise

was no longer in Casualty, she had been moved to one of

the medical wards. At least that sounded like good news.

Sandy found Charles in the corridor, half asleep; he

looked terrible. Sandy sat down next to him, touched his

arm gently. ‘Charles! I’m here. Any news?’