Crimson (36 page)

“And Clare?” Elinor asked.

“Clare’s seeing Sam and Josh off for a day on the speedboat. She’ll be along later.”

The day nurse pulled down the cream window blinds against the morning sun as Miranda entered.

Elinor smiled as she said, “Hello, darling.” She had trouble pronouncing the words. She asked anxiously, “Can you hear me properly, Miranda?” “Of course she can,” Buzz said.

“You sound as if you’ve got a bit of a toothache, that’s all.”

After ten minutes of understandably strained, cheerful chat, Buzz jerked her head towards the door and Miranda quietly disappeared. She was replaced by Annabel, who had clearly been crying.

As she talked, Annabel picked up a little box from the bedside table; it was an antique ebony snuffbox, the lid inlaid with a geometric pattern-of tortoiseshell and ivory.

“That was the first antique I ever bought,” Elinor said.

“Cost tuppence from a junk barrow in Earls Court Road. Take it now, dear child, as a gift.” Buzz said sharply, “Annabel! Put that back! You ain’t dying, Nell, and I won’t have you behaving as if you was.,

Annabel jumped and replaced the little box.

“Sorry. I only fiddling with it.” She had wanted to disguise her fumbling hands: she was not about to explain to her sick “,irandmother the reason for her fright, for the panic that rose within her chest.

After Annabel left, Elinor whispered to Buzz, “I want to see Clare alone.”

“Not on your life,” said Buzz.

“I’m sticking to you, close a limpet. You ain’t going to overdo it’ today my girl. Nobody is going to see you alone.”

“Please, Buzz,” Elinor pleaded.

“I w ant to ask her to go back to Sam.” Buzz hesitated, knowing that Clare would never discuss this in her presence. Reluctantly she nodded.

“Don’t forget, 1711 be sitting next door in the library with my stopwatch.” She marched past Elinor’s bed into the library; in front of the large window that overlooked the sea was the wooden kitchen table upon which Elinor had written Deadly Fortune and her every book since.

From the window, Buzz could see Clare sunning herself on the terrace below.

“Okay, Clare, you can come up now,” she yelled.

Two minutes later, Clare stood at her grandmother’s bedside; after a sleepless night, she looked almost as pale and exhausted as Elinor.

Elinor said, “I saw Sam for a few minutes, darling. He told me you’d had a serious tiff, but he hopes to persuade you to return to LA.” Clare looked carefully at Elinor.

“Sam only tells people what suits him, Gran.”

“He’s apparently just flown halfway round the world to -tell you he. loves you.”

“Sam can certainly act the devoted husband,” Clare said sourly”

“But if he’s flown halfway round the world to tell she he loves me, then why didn’t he tell me he loves meT “Any Don Juan can say he loves

you.” Elinor attempted a smile as she quoted what Buzz had so often told the girls in years past.

“You have to watch what Sam does, not what he says. If he gets up in the middle of the night to fetch you a glass of water, then he loves you.”

“A Busby Berkeley lineup in front of his bed couldn’t wake Sam in the middle of the night,” Clare said.

“Gran, I didn’t want to tell you, especially now, but you must understand. He … was with somebody else. That’s why I left.”

“She probably threw herself at him. A little tart. Dearest girl, I’ve told you before, you mustn’t let a little bit of fluff spoil your marriage.”

“You know, she was only one of them,” Clare said, vexed. it was typical of Sam’s chutzpah to get his story in first, to gain sympathy and support, to get Gran on his team.

Reluctantly Elinor said, “I had the same problem with Daddy Billy, but in my day wives had to put up with that sort of thing. Please be patient, darling, for Josh’s sake as well as your own. Don’t throw away your marriage because Sam is giving you trouble. All men give trouble.” Clare said indignantly, “I really don’t want to discuss it, Gran, but I don’t see why I should -put up with my husband’s adulteries just because you did so please don’t try to force me!”

“After six years of marriage, Clare, you can’t expect the same relationship as on your wedding day.”

“Of course I don’t expect the same relationship!” Clare exclaimed. What she had expected was a loving and trusting relationship based on a realistic assessment of each other’s virtues and faults.

“Being in love . Elinor dreamily remembered what it was like to feel that your lover possessed all the wonderful qualities you wanted, before you realized that he didn’t possess them, and that perhaps you had forced those qualities on him in the first place. She shook her head sadly.

“Being in love isn’t being married.” Ib that why you never write about marriage?” Clare bitterly.

“Only being in lo veT “There’s no need for that tone of voice,” Elinor said, clearly hurt.

“Beige in love isn’t a solution to every female problem!” Clare cried.

“I’ve never seen that spelled out in a women’s magazine story, or a film, or … a novel.” Clare was prepared to do without the ups of being in love in return for never experiencing the downs. She never again wanted to experience the feeling of being out of control and dependent on someone else’s approval, at someone else’s mercy. She never again wanted to feel that someone else could send her to heaven or to hell. She never again wanted to experience that feeling which led women to do too much for, and demand too much from, a partner.

“Understandably, you’re feeling cynical because of Sam’s naughtiness..

.”

“Gran, he’s not some mischievous schoolboy.” Last night, Sam had tried to manipulate Clare, and now her grandmother was trying to do the same thing on his behalf.

For. the second time in twenty-four hours, Clare’s indignation overcame her caution. Having come to terms with the failure of her marriage, she was trying to pick up the broken bits of her pride, glue them together, and get on with her life. She wished that people would not interfere, would leave her alone, especially people who didn’t know all the facts.

“Why not try to look upon whatever happened as a little misdemeanour,” Elinor persisted.

“Sam loves you. You know he does. And love is important because you can’t live without it, dear child: without love, you only exist.”

“I’m not sure that I love Sam. And I can live without love! Lots of people do nuns and light housemen for a start,” Clare raged.

“You taught me that without a man a woman’s life is bleak, empty, and dangerous; you taught me that a woman isn’t complete without a man. But I wonder if that’s so. I felt inadequate because I was living with a man.” Elinor whispered, “Don’t throw away your marriage, Clare. No woman wants to live without love and romance that’s what makes a woman feel transformed … excited … attractive… alive. That’s what I’ve always tried to convey in my writing.”

“Romance has a bad influence on reality,” Clare said.

“You encourage your readers to believe that one day their prince will come.”

“What’s wrong with th at?” “What’s wrong is that he won’t! He will only ever be a paper prince on a paper page! You should have shown your readers that there isn’t a Prince Charming, so they won’t feel disappointed and heated if their prince turns into a frog, like mine did. The story Sam tells about the frog is sad because it’s true ..

“The story about the frog?”

“It’s not As silly as it sounds. A frog asked a princess to take him to bed with her so that he could turn into a fairy prince. But when she woke up in the morning, the frog was still a frog. He croaked, “Sorry to disappoint you, but princesses always fall for that line.”” Elinor was silent as she allowed herself to see, for once, the soft and gentle cobweb of romance she had carefully woven around her life with Billy. Quietly she asked, “Is it so terrible to let an unhappy or humiliated woman forget, for a few hours, the problems that she will probably have to put up with for her whole life?” Elinor believed that her novels provided her readers with excitement, helped them to escape from insecurity and anxiety, frustration and drudgery, misery and sorrow, and of course, the boring daily routine of a life in which nothing was likely to change.

3o6 Clare sighed.

“You shouldn’t encourage your readers to Think that their lives might turn out like your novels. You encourage them to turn to romance rather than face reality. And then they’re at a disadvantage when they have to deal with real life problems.” Her voice rose.

“Clare, you’re getting overexcited.” Elinor’s own voice had weakened to a whisper. Clare suddenly noticed that Elinor’s hands were gripping the bedclothes, betraying the emotion hidden by her quiet words. In trying to articulate what she felt so strongly, Clare had forgotten that, she was talking to a very sick woman.

“I’m sorry, Gran. I hadn’t planned to talk about this today. But you know it’s what I’ve always thought. And it doesn’t meant that I don’t love you.” Elinor was not mollified. She said sharply, “My romantic novels enabled you girls to have a carefree life, the sort of life I wish I’d been able to give your father.” Elinor waited for the apology she felt was due” from Clare. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she said stubbornly, “If you denigrate my life’s work, you shall not profit by it unless you apologize to me, Clare.” With an effort, Clare spoke softly.

“Gran, I don’t want to denigrate your life’s work. And I don’t want to talk about money. That’s not important, Gran” “Are you going to apologize to me or not?” Elinor demanded in a shaking voice. She thought that Clare was being contemptuous of all she had done for her. In fact, Clare had been going to say that Elinor’s health was what was important at the moment.

Buzz strode in from the library.

“Your ten minutes was up half an hour ago, Clare. And if I’d known there would be raised voices, I wouldn’t have let you inhere.” Clare’s visit with Elinor was abruptly terminated.

Furious at the angry words, Clare telephoned Thomas Cook in Nice for

tickets to London. She wasn’t going back to LA and she wasn’t staying here. She would take Josh and Kathy, go to cosy, comfortable London, where she knew so many people, and there she would sort out her life.

Miranda, wearing a green bikini, sunned herself on the south terrace. As she listened to the faint smack of the sea on the rocks below, she thought again, regretfully, of Angus. She had to face the fact that she still missed him.

Although she’d seen a couple of nice men recently, when it came to the heavy breathing Miranda found that she didn’t want to be touched intimately by anyone she didn’t know well. She didn’t feel comfortable and safe with anybody but Angus: he hadn’t tried to push her into bed at the first opportunity.

Three weeks earlier, her secretary had unexpectedly announced Mr. Angus Maclayne on line three. Miranda’s heart had looped the loop as she happily accepted an invitation to lunch at Rules, his favourite restaurant. She hoped Angus wanted to rekindle their love affair, as she did.

Rules was decorated like a Victorian library; it smelled of superior malt whiskies and very old leather. Miranda and Angus sat in a velvet-lined, crimson booth that reminded her of an oldfashioned railway carriage. The Dickensian waiter flapped his napkin and advised with more truth than tact, “Shouldn’t have turbot today, sir, although the salmon’s passable.” They ordered vichyssoise, followed by sea bass with fresh peas, and iced apricot souffle afterwards.

There had been no expression of undying love on the angular face she had come to love. Instead, Angus treated Miranda with distant respect, twitching his sandy eyebrows and speaking of inconsequential things just as though she were his aunt … or maybe his stockbroker.

Once during lunch, she thought for a moment her hopes 3o8 lized. Over the sea bass, Angus leaned across -would be rea white linen tablecloth, his lips close to her ear.

“Miranda, I’ve been thinking a lot about you.” Miranda smiled encouragingly. She longed to hear him say, “God, how I’ve missed you! Let’s get out of here, darling! I want to be alone with you!”

Angus said, “I’m worried that you’re expanding too fast. You seem to be financing yourself by borrowing against your leases leveraging in an expanding property market while interest rates are low.” Miranda felt her heart crash to the bottom of her ribcage.

“What’s wrong with that?” she muttered. Angus carefully dissected his fish.

“If this property boom suddenly collapses, or if the government decides to jack up the bank rate to curb consumer spending, then you might find your loans withdrawn, in which case you’d have a serious cash-flow problem on your hands.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Miranda said crossly.

“Higher bank interest may also mean a property slump,” Angus added.

“And then you’d have another big problem: the leases that. act as your collateral would sink in value, so the banks would run scared and ask for fast repayment.” Angus sipped his hock reflectively.

“That sort of situation has been known to end in … bankruptcy.”

“Thanks for warning me, but I have no intention of going bankrupt,” Miranda replied coldly; she was too disappointed to enjoy the apricot souffle. For the remainder of the meal, they chatted politely about business and exchanged city gossip. Afterwards, they parted awkwardly on the pavement, each refusing the other’s offer of a lift.

Neither suggested a further meeting. Angus, who admired guts and gumption, had missed the adventurous and spirited Miranda even more than he expected. He asked her out to lunch because he hoped that she

had missed him. He had kept a discreet close watch on Miranda, who, he knew, had not been seriously involved with any other man since she broke off their engagement. Angus reckoned that fast business expansion was absorbing all her time and energy, which was why he had decided to take things one step at a time and discuss only business over luncheon; a business chat would avoid putting either of them in a rejecting position.

Sadly, Miranda, too, had clearly wished to discuss only business.

However, Angus did not intend to give up his pursuit of her; she fascinated him as no other woman had. Sometimes she was fiery, or she could be ice cool: qualities that intrigued the male in Angus, although they disturbed the businessman.