Forever (17 page)

When the cortège reached Providence Memorial Park, Jim Meredith gave thanks to his Maker that Charles Lafayette was not to be buried in the St Louis Cemetry. Judge Clay, physically helped in and out of the Clay limousine by his remaining son, had insisted on attending the funeral. For his sake, if for no other, Jim was glad that the Lafayette burial place was not adjoining the desecrated family tomb.

His anxiety eased even more as the service progressed. Augusta's face streamed with silent tears but her veil shielded her from the stares of the curious. She was conducting herself with admirable dignity and Jim felt proud of her. It would give the lie to all those who whispered she had lost her mind.

Through the carefully tended woodlands of the cemetery, a blue Thunderbird approached. Jim Meredith felt a slight constriction in his chest. Bradley Hampton. He had seen Mr and Mrs Hampton among the mourners and had felt relief at Bradley's absence. He should have known that Bradley would not stay away.

Heads turned as Bradley made his way towards the large group of mourners to stand, towering and broad-shouldered, beside his parents, his burning gaze focused on where Augusta stood, her veil lifting gently in the breeze, her slender figure forlorn and alone.

Why had he come? Oh God, why? Augusta's nails dug deep into her palms. ‘Because he loves you,' she told herself. ‘He still loves you.' The tears that wet her cheeks were now no longer solely for her father, but also for herself. He looked so handsome; so comforting; so
safe
. If only she could throw herself into his strong arms. Have him tell her he would take care of her. Love her. If only …

The service was over. Leo was cutting short those who were approaching Gussie and offering her their condolences. Bradley remained where he stood, holding her with his eyes.

Gussie tried not to look in his direction. How long had it been? Three months? Six months? More? Perhaps he was married! Terrified eyes flew to his hand. Strong and olive-toned and ringless. What right did she have to be jealous? She had told him she did not love him. She had done it so that he could love elsewhere. Oh, Jesus God, why did it still hurt so much?

‘This way, Augusta.' It was Leo, gentle and dependable.

‘I'm sorry,' she wept as she stepped into the rear of the limousine. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry …'

Those who heard thought the despairing words were for her father. Jim Meredith, staring from her to the tortured figure of Bradley Hampton, knew differently. Sighing deeply, he followed Tina into her limousine. It all would have been so much easier if Gussie had been married to Bradley, and now, without Charles, Gussie would be more cut off than ever. There would be money in plenty. In theory, the world was at Gussie's feet. He sighed again. But they had already been through all the arguments, and he knew she would fight tooth and nail rather than leave the seclusion of her home. He would call in every day. There was nothing more he could do.

She watched from her bedroom window as Jim Meredith's Continental eased its way down the oak-lined drive. In the aftermath of the funeral Augusta had been pale and silent, but nothing in her behaviour had caused speculation among her array of relatives. Now they were gone and she was alone. Alone. The word sent a cold shiver down her spine. She had never been destined to live alone. She needed to love and be loved. The need for Bradley was like a physical pain. She could go to him today. Now. He wouldn't turn her away. She knew he wouldn't.

‘Augusta, Augusta.'

She gasped and pressed her hands against her eyes to shut out the invidious whisper. It was her imagination. It had to be. Beau's voice had not tormented her for weeks, for months.

She tried to recapture the decisiveness of a minute before. She had simply to walk from the room, descend the stairs, summon the chauffeur …

‘Augusta!'

Again she pressed the palms of her hands against her ears, willing herself to move to the door. In ten minutes she could be at the Hampton estate. Bradley would be there. He would be tense, not knowing the purpose of her visit. She would tell him she was sorry; that she loved him and wanted to marry him; that she had told a lie because …

‘AUGUSTA!'

She was at the door, looking down the richly carpeted stairs that wound down to the marble-floored hall. Through the glass panels of the door she could see the blurred outline of someone waiting. Fifty yards. Only fifty yards …

‘You're mine! Mine!'
The voice was no whisper now it was a frenzied, jealous shout.

‘No!'
she shouted back into space.
‘You're dead and I'm alive!'

Like breaking an invisible barrier, she hurled herself from the room and grasped the gleaming rosewood banisters.
‘I'm going to Bradley!'

‘Forever,'
Beau's voice said menacingly, and his shadow fell across her, pinning her back against the banisters.
‘You bound me to you forever, Augusta.'

She could feel the weight of his body, feel his breath on her cheek. She was being pushed backwards. The banister rail dug deep into her spine; her hands slid helplessly along the smooth wood.

‘You made me love you forever, Augusta. You can't leave me now for another man. You're mine. Mine …'

‘Landsakes, Miss Augusta! You're going to fall to your death,' Allie shrieked, rushing up the stairs and grabbing her. ‘What you think you're doing? Leaning back over the banisters that way?'

Gussie gazed at her dazedly. They were alone. Where had Beau gone? Surely he'd been here?

‘Beau,' she said, as Allie ushered her back into her bedroom. ‘Beau? Where are you? Where have you gone?'

‘There ain't no one here,' Allie said sternly, sitting her down on her bed, removing her shoes, swinging her legs up and under the coolness of the sheets. ‘You need to sleep, Miss Augusta. That's what you need.' She drew the curtains, plunging the room into darkness. ‘I don't want no more such nonsense, Miss Augusta. You've no right to scare folks so.'

The door closed. Augusta stared up at the ceiling. Where had she been going? Beau had been jealous. So jealous that he had been going to come for her. Her head throbbed. Who could Beau possibly be jealous of? She'd never loved anyone but him. Except Bradley. She tried to remember Bradley's face but could not. It was swamped by Beau's hard, glittering eyes.

‘Mine,'
he whispered in her ear. ‘
Forever, Augusta. Forever
…'

She rose at dawn and stepped like a sleep-walker into the dew-damp air. She picked a large, milk-white magnolia and then stood trancelike until the limousine slid to a halt at her side.

Augusta smiled at Horatio, the quiet, well-spoken man who had been her father's chauffeur for twenty years, and slid into the rear of the car. Horatio nodded good morning and kept his thoughts to himself. He had hoped Mr Lafayette's death would put an end to Miss Augusta's dawn trips to the St Louis Cemetery.

Yesterday's flower lay dying on the tangled grass. She replaced it with the lush magnolia.

‘Forever,' she said, shivering in the early morning air. ‘Forever, Beau. Just as I promised.'

‘Miss Eden for you, Miss Augusta,' Allie said as the spring sunshine warmed the day. ‘She's out on the back porch. ‘Shall I bring you some milkshakes?'

‘Yes and tell her we're coming, Allie.'

Allie stared at her. Miss Augusta was on her own. She hurried from the room. Things had been bad before Mr Lafayette had died, but now they were a hundred times worse, Miss Augusta continually talking to herself, singing late at night and into the early hours of morning; soft, coaxing singing as if she was trying to lure someone to her room. Servants who had been with the Lafayettes for years bore it stoically but the little girl from Atlanta who had come to help in the kitchen had soon fled, saying that the mistress was spooked.

The girl had received a clip around the ears from Sabina Royal, the Lafayette cook, but silently many of the staff agreed with her. There was no pleasure left in being employed at St Michel, and Miss Augusta certainly didn't behave as if she was right in her head. When Horatio had at last told them where Miss Augusta insisted on being taken every morning, the unease had deepened. The Lafayette family mausoleum was not in St Louis Cemetery. Augusta had no reason to go visiting there. Not unless …

Allie had told them not to be fools. Of course Miss Augusta wasn't spooked. She was just disturbed. She would be all right again: eventually.

‘Hi,' Eden said, disguising her dismay at the sight of Gussie's hollow cheeks and shadowed eyes. ‘How's things?'

‘Fine.' Gussie sat next to Eden on the faded cushions of the porch swing as Allie came out with the drinks. Eden felt a surge of relief. This was more like old times. At least Gussie had not refused to see her.

‘How are you finding it? Living here by yourself?' Eden asked when Allie had gone.

‘Oh, I'm not by myself,' Gussie said composedly.

‘Is Tina staying with you?'

‘No.'

‘Then who is?'

‘Beau Clay,' Gussie said, swinging rhythmically. ‘I told you he was here last time you came but you didn't believe me.'

Eden stared at her with horrified eyes. ‘Beau Clay is dead, Gussie.'

‘I know. You said that before, too. He's dead, but his being dead doesn't make any difference – not to Beau. I've bound him to me forever.' She leaned towards Eden, her eyes feverish. ‘And he's going to come for me, Eden. Soon. Today, Tomorrow.
Soon
!'

Eden felt as if she would never breathe again. ‘Bradley,' she croaked at last, ‘what about Bradley? He still loves you, Gussie.'

Desolation swept Gussie's face. ‘Does he?'

For a hair's-breadth of time Eden thought she had broken the sickness of Gussie's mind and then Gussie said sadly, ‘But I promised Beau first. I told him I would love him and want him forever. Vows have to be kept, Eden. Bradley said so.'

‘I'm going to see Mae's grandmother,' Eden said shakily, rising to her feet. ‘She started all this, she'll know what to do.'

‘It's too late, Eden,' Gussie said, her eyes brilliant with fear. ‘Beau won't wait any longer for me. He's going to come for me! I know he is!'

‘Jesus and Mary,' Eden whispered. ‘You've got to do something, Gussie. Quickly!'

‘Too late,' Gussie said again and leaned back against the cushions, the fire dying from her eyes. ‘It's too late, Eden.'

Eden ran for her car and turned the ignition with trembling fingers. Something had to be done immediately or Gussie would be put in a State mental institution. She swerved out of the driveway, just missing an oncoming car. She had never met Leila Jefferson, though she had heard the rumours. She crashed a set of lights. But those rumours were nothing compared to those that would soon be circulating about Gussie. She skidded into the broad drive of the Jefferson home. Should she have gone for Bradley first? Told Bradley what had happened on that distant Midsummer's Eve? She slammed the car door behind her. No. Bradley was in love with Gussie. He could not be expected to accept that her mental derangement was due to an obsession with another man. Once the spectre of Beau Clay had been erased, Gussie would return to normal and her relationship with Bradley would take care of itself.

‘You want to see my mother-in-law, Eden?' Mrs Jefferson asked incredulously. ‘I'm afraid I don't understand.'

Eden forced a brilliant smile. ‘I'm doing some research on Old New Orleans and I thought Mrs Jefferson Sr could help me out. Mae said she knew a hundred and one stories about the beginning of the city.'

‘Yes.' Mae's mother was unenthusiastic. She knew some of the stories her mother-in-law told and didn't approve of them. ‘I'm sure she would have loved to have helped you, Eden, but I'm afraid she isn't here. She doesn't live with us: not that we haven't asked her, of course –'

‘Oh, that doesn't matter, I'd love to go see her. Only I don't know where the old Jefferson place is …' she said disarmingly.

Mrs Jefferson had no intention of telling her. It was a decrepit, near-derelict place and a disgrace to the family. The thought of anyone visiting there gave her vapours.

‘I'm afraid I can't help you, Eden,' she said firmly. ‘My mother-in-law receives no visitors. It's been very nice seeing you but now I must ask you to excuse me. The secretary of the Rose Club has just called and …'

Eden made a speedy exit. There was no point in staying. She drove to the nearest diner and ordered a hamburger and coke. Then she phoned Desirée.

‘The Jefferson place? Why do you want to know?' The edge of permanent hysteria in Desirée's voice heightened.

‘To hell with why I want to know,' Eden snapped ‘Where is it?'

‘Down-near the Gulf; deep in the bayous.'

‘But
where
?' Eden demanded, wishing she could shake Desirée by her silly shoulders.

‘I don't
know
where!' Desirée said, her voice rising alarmingly. ‘What ever do you –'

Eden slammed the phone down. She ate her hamburger without tasting it and then rang the Shreve house, the Ross's house, the Lafittes and the Delatours. No one could give an accurate address for the old Jefferson plantation. No one but the Jeffersons had ever been there. Eden swore under her breath and rang Mae in Atlanta.

‘But why?' Mae asked nervously.

‘Because Gussie is losing her mind,' Eden yelled brutally. ‘The only person capable of breaking her delusion is your grandmother.'

There was a long silence and the Mae said tremulously, ‘What if it isn't a delusion, Eden?'

Eden's voice lost its usual authoritativeness. ‘Of course it's a delusion.'

‘
I
don't believe it's a delusion,' Mae sobbed. ‘I believe it's the truth,' and she slammed the phone down, and no matter how many times Eden rang again, refused to answer it.