Crimson (7 page)

Adam said reprovingly, “I think you had better apologize to your grandmother, Clare.” Clare stood up and silently left the room. Adam coughed.

“Elinor, do you wish Clare included in the trust?” “Of course,” both sisters said in unison.

Elinor said crossly, “I don’t want Clare put in the trust as a beneficiary until she has apologized to me.” Her voice was clear and firm.

“You can’t leave Clare outP Annabel protested.

“You must put her in!” insisted Miranda.

Adam looked embarrassed.

“I suppose, formally, I … er … ought to protest on my client’s behalf at this attempt at coercion,” he said lamely.

“Oh, shut up, Adam,” Buzz said.

very one present knew that Elinor was generous and indulgent, except when she thought she was being taken for granted or taken for a ride. Then she could be as tough as nails. At that point, if criticized or made in any way to feel guilty or vulnerable, Elinor became incredibly stubborn.

Buzz said, “Elinor, I’m sure it bothers you that Clare would prefer you wrote that kitchen sink stuff about poor people with miserable lives. I know she criticized your books. But you don’t want to hurt Clare in this way.” Buzz’s last sentence was almost an order.

“Clare hurt me,” Elinor responded stubbornly, a theatrical note in her shaky voice. Another page from Wuthering Heights’they all noticed.

Sourly Buzz said, “I suppose you’d like the butler to hand Clare a tourist-class ticket back to Los Angeles.”

“That’s enough, Buzz.” Elinor leaned back limply against the pile of pillows.

“Elinor, you’re just being stubborn.” Buzz spoke crossly now.

“What you don’t like in Clare is what she’s inherited from you!” The kitchen timer in Buzz’s pocket blared, and she stood up.

“Time’s up,” she said.- “Outside, the lot of you! In double-quick time!”

“I have just one further thing to say, to Adam alone.” Elinor’s voice was faint.

After the door closed and Adam and Elinor were alone, she said slowly, “You’d better get this trust set up as fast as possible, dear boy. A little later, we can add Clare’s name to the beneficiaries.”

“No,” Adam said, “the trust would be irrevocable in that respect.”

“Well, go down to the pool and ask Clare to apologize. Elinor’s voice trembled with exhaustion now.

“Ask her nicely. Come straight back and tell me what she says. I hope I’ve already made it clear that I won’t be intimidated and I won’t be bullied. I’m sure she’ll be a sensible girl.

-A

nd then everything will be neatly settled.” She gave a “deep sigh of relief.

“Hurry,” she whispered.

Adam sauntered to the swimming pool and squatted on his haunches by the side.

“Your grandmother wants an unconditional apology from you for what you said about her books, her money, and her advisers. She wants it immediately, and I think you should know that she intends to pumsh you severely should you not do this.” Clare looked up, astonished. She stood in the water and smoothed back her wet hair.

“I’m a married woman, Adam, not a child who can be stood in the corner until it gives in. I won’t respond to threats. I believe that what I said was true and I see no reason to retract any of it.”

“So you won’t apologize?” “Certainly not.” Elinor looked up, cheerfully expectant, as Adam entered her bedroom. Her expression changed when she saw his perplexed face.

“I’m sorry, “Adam said, “but Clare refuses to a ologize. I p put the matter to her fairly forcibly, knowing … the possible consequences.” Elinor sighed.

“What exactly did Clare say?” “She said, “Certainly not.”” A-dam broke the silence that had fallen between them.

“Do you wish Clare toer … be included in the trust?” Elinor’s voice sounded very weary.

“Of course I want Clare included in the trust. But please don’t tell her not until she has come around. You would think she could put aside her stubbornness at a time like this.”

Adam glanced warily at Elinor and said nothing.

Through the window of her ground-floor office, Buzz could

X4

clearly hear angry voices at the swimming pool, where Miranda and Annabel had joined their sister.

Sadly Buzz thought, hardly a cross word among them since they were children and now listen! And when their grandmother is on her deathbed! She knew that because the sisters were so close, they knew exactly where to jab at each other’s sensitive spots. They’re exactly the same as they were eighteen years ago, she thought, when she first went to live with Elinor. But now, instead of cheerfully bickering over hair ribbons or stolen pencils, they were quarrelling over a fortune.

At the side of the pool, Clare said crossly, “Of all the unctuous, hypocritical little creeps, you two are the worst! I never realized that your devotion to literature was so great, Annabel. Scholarships, prizes, and burs aries to perpetuate her life’s work, indeed!”

“Well, why nod” Annabel cried.

“It’s her money! I wanted to cheer her up, after you’d been such a bitch.”

“Well, why not?” Clare yelled.

“Because Gran’s life’s work has probably done more damage than she will ever realize!”

Her sisters groaned theatrically: together, they mimicked Clare’s high, soft voice: “Those sentimental novels give women readers a romantic, unrealistic, and dangerous view of LIFE.”

“Well, they do,” Clare said defensively.

“All those women readers have been taught to believe in happy endings. If they’re going through a tough period of life, they simply tell themselves that they’re in the middle of chapter five, but the hero will be waiting, to put things right, in chapter seven. They’ve been indoctrinated to be passive, to put up with their lives, not to try and change them.”

“What’s so terrible about escapist literature?” Annabel demanded.

“Most women read it and why not? I do.”

“Gran’s books sell by the million,” Miranda said, “so obviously a great many people enjoy them.” “Clare, why not check out your own reality,” Annabel suggested, “and stop yelling at us because of your domestic problems.”

“That’s probably why she’s in such a foul mood,” Miranda continued.

“I bet they’ve had a falling out, and she’s temporarily disenchanted. No longer believes in romance or true love.”

“True love died out with pterodactyls,” Clare said curtly.

“No it didn’t. But I’d like to know where to find it,” Miranda mused.

“That wonderful vibration between the two of you, “Annabel said dreamily.

“That stars-in-your-heart feeling, when you don’t need words to communicate…”

“I’ve never met a man who knew what I was thinking,” said Miranda, “and if there’s no need to communicate, how come you telephone New York so often? At Gran’s expense.1 Exasperated, Clare said, “I really don’t understand how you two can chat so flippantly about any form of love or communication after that hypocritical scene you just played. I was disgusted by your calculating flatteryP “And I was disgusted by your squeaky self-righteousness!” Miranda snapped.

“At least I didn’t suddenly turn into a ]over of literature, like Annabel!”

“I simply wanted to make her happy!” Annabel shouted.

“After you had upset her.”

“You know I can’t stand her Daddy-knows-best line,” Clare said.

“Who cares what you think, when she’s dying, you self righteous little prig!” Miranda said angrily.

I Clare burst into tears and ran indoors. Stumbling to her bedroom, she wondered, as she had so many times, how Miranda could, with so few words, goad her to feel such violence and passion. Once again Miranda

had reduced her, to a point where she felt as though she were naked and vulnerable, being mercilessly poked by an electric cattle prod.

The pool area was silent.

Buzz sighed. She left her office and returned to Elinor’s bedroom: Buzz liked to appear there unexpectedly, to make sure that when her back was turned, the nurse wasn’t slack.

White and exhausted, Elinor lay against the pillows; one thin hand upon the sheet clutched the silver-framed photograph of Billy as a young flier. She looked up at Buzz, and her face was frightened as she whispered, “I’ll soon see him again.”

““Rubbish. I’ll have you back on your feet in no time,” Buzz said firmly.

“You don’t understand about Billy, Buzz. You never understood.”

“I understand that Billy owed everything to you.”

“Oh no, Buzz, I owed everything to Billy,” Elinor whispered dreamily.

“He was the only marr for me right from the beginning…”

TUESDAY, 15 OCTOBER 19 18

On night duty in the casualty clearing station at La Chapelle in northern France, eighteen-year-old Nurse Elinor Dove was in love and that, for the moment, was all that truly mattered. It was the first time she had experienced the intoxicating effect.

After that first night, when Billy had kissed her hand, Elinor blushed whenever she had to go near bed 17; if he called for her, she tried to avoid touching him. Her nervousness seemed to amuse him, and the rest of the ward.

One morning, just before she went off duty, Nurse Dove, exhausted, was wearily scrubbing up the carnage from the previous day’s many operations. Alone in the sink room, she suddenly heard a tapping sound approaching from behind. She turned to see Flight Commander O’Dare, on rubber-tipped crutches, swing himself through the door. Under his aquamarine gaze, Elinor felt an all-too-familiar blush. Why didn’t this fellow get back into his bed if he felt ill? Why did he look at her so steadily, with that hint of a smile? Why did he make her feel so warm and embarrassed and vulnerable? And why did she feel guilty? He knew he was making her blush.

“Why are you out of bed?” she asked, feigning irritation. He grinned.

“You know I might be transferred soon,” he said as he moved towards her. Suddenly one of his crutches slipped on the wet tiles and he lost his balance, crashing to the floor.

Nurse Dove dashed to her patient.

“Don’t move! Let me help you!”

Carefully she turned him on his back, then gently felt his neck.

“Can you move your head to the left? … Now to the right … That’s fine.” Billy O’Dare opened his aquamarine eyes, and in them, Nurse Dove saw not pain but determination. Without speaking, he gripped her upper arms, pulling her down on his chest. For a moment, he stared into her eyes, mesmerizing her. Then silently he pulled her closer and fastened his warm mouth upon hers. Once again she was overwhelmed by the seductive, forbidden smell of him.

Lying on top of him, feeling his body beneath her, Elinor started to tremble: an odd, compulsively strong urge seemed to knock all the sense from her head. Her eyes were closed. She felt as if she were pleasantly drowning in warm water, Then she felt the tip of his tongue part her lips and gently explore her unresisting mouth as his hand reached beneath her nurse’s headdress to the thick fair hair coiled in a bun at the nape of her neck. Billy gently stroked the back of her neck, and every time he did so, a shiver ran down her spine. Through her navy serge uniform, she felt his knowing hand on her breast, his gentle touch warming her heart.

Elinor was oblivious of the ward noises around her. As if of its own volition, her body arched against Billy O’Dare. His arms enfolded and imprisoned her. He kissed her harshly, bruising her lips against his. His hand slid downwards to press her buttocks against him, and she felt his hard body against hers.

She stiffened in alarm. Between kisses, Billy murmured soothing words: lovely creature … wanted you the moment I saw you … lovely eyes … love … love … love.” As he kissed her, one calculating hand slowly raised her skirt and groped beneath it.

Nurse Dove sharply returned to reality. Frantically she fought against his insistent strong hands. All the sensuous excitement evaporated, turned off as if -by a switch. She knew what happened to girls who let a fellow go too far, and it wasn’t going to happen to her.

Billy lay on the floor looking up at her, his eyes imploring.

“I’m sorry! But you’re so lovely, so special,” he whispered.

Elinor scowled at him again, her pale green eyes flashing with indignation.

“You don’t understand how a fellow feels,” Billy said reproachfully.

“Besides, Nurse Dove, I really do love you.” Two weeks later, somewhat to his surprise, Flight Commander William O’Dare asked Nurse Elinor Dove to marry him.

To Elinor’s dismay, Buzz did not share her joy at Billy’s proposal.

Sitting on Elinor’s bed in the Nissen hut, Buzz eventually said, “You know the dangers of wartime marriages, Nell. There are so few women out here … their attractions are magnified .. and all the men fall for them. Even my-boot faced commandant has a string of beaux. Things get out of perspective on both sides.” She inhaled cigarette smoke.

“I admit Billy’s a good-looker. Them blue eyes and that tangle of fair hair. I agree he’s got plenty of lanky, twinkle eyed Irish charm. But what do you know about him, Nell? You know nothing, except he’s six foot tall, good-looking and could charm the bloomers off practically anyone. Why get married so fast? They say the war’s nearly over, so Billy’s unlikely-6 get killed. There’s no hurry or so you tell me!”

“What a wet blanket you are!” Elinor said crossly.

“What a romantic, headstrong idiot you are,” Buzz retorted.

“You know nothing about his family, What’s Billy going to do in

peacetime? What will you live on? Suppose 5The turns put to be a lazy layabout or a rotter? What if he turns out to be tricking you?” “Tricking me?” Elinor exclaimed indignantly.

“Why would Billy want to trick me? I haven’t got a bean!”

“I don’t know,” Buzz worried.

“I just think he’s too good to be true. If he’s such a good bet, then why not wait until you’ve met his family?”

“I’ve had enough of death and depression, and so has he! I want some life, and he’s offering it to me.” Eighteen-year-old Elinor and her twenty-five-year-old bridegroom were married by a French Catholic priest in a church most of which was still standing five miles from the hospital at La Chapelle. Elinor wore her best cream silk blouse and a borrowed burgundy wool skirt. The marriage witnesses were Billy’s observer, Joe Grant, and Buzz, who wore a pink blouse and an air of suspicion.