Old Sins (50 page)

‘Really? And you’ve – well you’ve got to – well –’

‘Like men? And sex? Yes, of course. Maybe it took me a bit longer than it would have done, but once I found someone I could trust, it was fine. You’ll find the same.’

‘I hope so.’

‘The really important thing was that he didn’t really do anything. He could have raped you. But I suppose you’ve thought about that, imagined it, endlessly, thought how it could have happened.’

Roz smiled. ‘You really do understand, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do. Most women would.’

‘Mummy wouldn’t.’

‘Oh, I expect she would.’ There was a silence. ‘Do you really think she’s in a mess?’

‘Yes. I do. I think he’s giving her an awful time. She’s odd. Terribly subdued. And once or twice, she had a bruise on her face. Of course she said she’d fallen over or something, but I think he’s knocking her about. But because I feel it’s partly my fault, you know, about David and everything, I just can’t – couldn’t – tell anyone.’

‘I really don’t think it’s anything to do with you. All right, you might have got your father a bit worked up about Sassoon, but he’s not some kind of saint you suddenly corrupted. He’s a quixotic, powerful man, used to having his own way; you can’t be blamed for that.’

Roz looked doubtful. ‘I don’t think that’s right.’

‘OK. Maybe you should take that bit of blame. But that was two years ago; your mother didn’t rush off and marry the awful little monkey on the rebound. She’s a grown woman, Roz. She’s very sophisticated, very strong willed; you really can’t be held responsible for her actions. I’m very fond of your mother, but I’d be the first to say that nobody could possibly make her do or not do anything once she’s made up her mind about something. I think you should put that right out of your head.’

‘Oh.’

Roz felt as if a great boulder had been rolled away from her path, a boulder that had been blocking out the light, preventing her from going forward, keeping her crammed into a tight airless hole. She sighed suddenly, and smiled at Susan, a radiantly happy, almost childlike smile. It was oddly moving.

‘You’ve been so nice to me. You’ve helped me so much. I wish you were my mother.’ This tribute, combined with the smile, affected Susan strongly; she felt tears at the back of her eyes.

‘My dear girl, you have a most remarkable mother.’

‘I do? No. A remarkable person, maybe. Not much of a mother though.’

‘Roz, you don’t know –’

‘I do know. But we won’t go into that now. I’m awfully tired. When did you say I’d be back at school?’

‘When you were ready. Take a day or two off, I would. You can stay here with me. Is your friend Rosie home?’

‘No, she’s at school in Paris now.’

‘Why didn’t you tell her about it all?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I just didn’t want to talk about it. It’s too – oh, I don’t know, personal. And I’m not much good at confidences.’

‘No. Nor me. The only person I talk to a lot these days is your grandmother.’

‘Not your daughters?’

‘No. I hardly ever see them. Jenny’s married and Sheila’s teaching in the North. They say I’m changed. I expect they’re right.’ She sighed.

‘I like talking to Granny Letitia too,’ said Roz. ‘She’s wonderful, isn’t she? I’m sure she’s immortal, she never seems to get any older.’

‘Oh, she does to me,’ said Susan, ‘but you see I knew her when she was quite young, not much older than I am now. Oh, Roz, we had such fun.’

‘What was my father like in those days?’ asked Roz suddenly.

‘Oh, much more light-hearted. But otherwise much the same. Terribly ambitious. A workaholic. Lots of lovely ladies, of course.’ She spoke very brightly. Roz looked at her.

‘I suppose he was terribly attractive.’

‘Oh yes. Terribly. Well, he still is, of course.’

‘I suppose he must be. Otherwise Araminta wouldn’t be carrying on with him.’

‘Oh, I think that’s purely because of her contract. Between you and me.’

‘But she doesn’t have to sleep with him.’

‘No. But going round with him, being his mistress gives her a certain cachet. It all helps her image. And his, of course.’

‘Yes. Yes, I suppose so. Do you mind?’ asked Roz suddenly.

‘Mind what? Araminta being your father’s mistress? No, of course not. Why ever should I?’

‘Don’t know. Sorry.’

‘Now listen, are we to tell your parents about all this or not?’

‘I’d rather not. But I am a bit worried about my mother. I mean, as well as the fact he might be knocking her about, there’s this really weird business about her having a baby. I told you. With – with the monkey. It seemed to be really obsessing her. I still don’t know what to do.’

‘Well look,’ said Susan, ‘will you trust me to handle it? I won’t make a big deal of it, I’ll play it down, but I’ll have to tell your father something, the school is bound to mention it, and then I can suggest your mother might need help. Then it’ll be out of our hands. All right?’

‘All right. Thank you.’

‘I’m not suggesting that one chat with me is going to sort you out completely. You may still have nightmares for a while, you
may not like being kissed by your next boyfriend either. But I do feel sure it’ll get better. Just concentrate on that picture of the monkey on the floor, clutching his balls, and try and laugh about it. It’ll help.’

‘I will. You’re wonderful, Susan.’

‘Not really. One more thing, if you do go on feeling really bad, let me know and we can sort out someone cleverer than me to talk to.’

‘A shrink, do you mean? No thanks. Half the girls I met in America go to shrinks. It’s pathetic. I like to handle my own problems.’

‘Well, so do I. But just occasionally, we all need a bit of help. Now I think we should both go to bed. Good night, Roz.’

‘Good night, Susan. And thank you again.’

Roz fell asleep feeling relaxed and confident, and thinking how wise and honest Susan was; the only thing she had not believed was when she had said she didn’t mind Araminta being her father’s mistress.

‘Julian,’ said Susan, ‘I know you’re not going to like this, but there’s something you have to know.’

Julian left for France forty-eight hours later and returned with the shares back in his possession; a week later Eliza came home, very thin, rather pale, but patently extremely cheerful, and told Roz she was divorcing du Chene.

‘Julian,’ said Susan, ‘what on earth have you been doing? How did you manage that?’

‘Oh,’ he said, ‘it’s much better you don’t know. You would be even more disapproving of me than you are already. Which I wouldn’t like. Let’s just say I gave that little squirt a very nasty hour or so, and he came to see that it was greatly in his interest to do what I asked.’

‘I suppose you blackmailed him?’

‘Mrs Johns! What an ugly concept.’ He paused, then smiled at her.

‘You did, didn’t you?’

‘Well, let’s say I pointed out to him how very anti-social his behaviour had been. Was.’

‘And Eliza?’

‘Well, Eliza of course was delighted to find herself free.’

‘Yes, but–’

‘But what? You said I should help her. I do a lot because you say so, Susan. I’m always telling you that.’

‘Did you tell Eliza about Roz?’

‘Of course. She was appalled. She really had had no idea. If she had, then I’m sure she would have left him immediately. But we agreed that she should never discuss it with Roz. On your advice. Again.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘We seem to do everything you tell us, my family and I.’

‘What about this nonsense about Eliza having a baby? Did you get to the bottom of that?’

‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’

‘And?’

‘Do you really want to know? It will confirm all your darkest suspicions about the decadent upper classes.’

‘They don’t need confirming.’

‘Well, Eliza had led the Vicomte to believe she could give him an heir. Of course she couldn’t. Nobody knew that but me, and her, and possibly her mother. She was sterilized after Roz was born. The doctor said another baby would kill her. It seemed the best solution.’

‘So?’

‘Well, obviously, had the Vicomte known that, it might have put a slightly different complexion on – our conversation. Particularly for Eliza.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, because she’d married him under false pretences, which meant I could get the shares back just slightly more easily.’

‘Why? I still don’t understand.’

‘Well, you see, they were in Eliza’s name. They were a wedding present from him to her. I don’t think she really wanted to part with them even then. But she did agree that I should have them. Under the circumstances.’

‘So you bought the shares from Eliza? I hope you paid her properly for them.’

‘Of course I did. Exactly what du Chene paid for them.’

‘But that was a year ago. They’re worth far more now.’

‘I know. But I think she owes me some – what shall we say – interest.’

‘Julian, that is outrageous.’

‘Susan, it’s no such thing. Her behaviour was outrageous. She’s a very rich woman now, which is nice for her. Just not quite as rich as she might have been.’

‘I still think it’s outrageous.’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’re entitled to your opinion. But remember that I have rescued her from a very nasty situation. One that she got herself into.’

‘What I can’t work out,’ said Susan, giving up the struggle, as always, to talk ethics with Julian, ‘is why didn’t she walk out months ago, if the shares were hers?’

‘She didn’t dare. He threatened to tell everyone exactly why she’d married him if she did. He could have made her look very unpleasant indeed. Eliza is quite anxious about her reputation, you know. Interestingly so. And she has this quaint old-fashioned sense of honour. You would understand that, no doubt. She felt she owed it to him to try and make the marriage work. God knows why. She’s had a hideous time.’

‘Was he beating her up?’

‘No, not really. But other things.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Minor perversions. Of course once she’d told me about them, he became even more anxious to cooperate.’

‘God, you’re devious,’ she said.

‘No,’ he said, ‘just pragmatic.’

A few weeks later, in one of the few non-pragmatic actions of his life, Julian Morell asked Susan Johns to marry him. Not without considerable regret, she turned him down.

Los Angeles, 1973–6

MRS KELLY LOOKED
anxiously across the table at Hugo Dashwood. She found it hard to talk to him, harder to ask him
for help, but Lee had told her, insisted that she could and should, and he himself on his regular visits to Santa Monica had always stressed the same thing.

‘It’s nothing I can put my finger on, Mr Dashwood,’ she said. ‘But I just don’t feel happy about him. He isn’t working at high school, but then lots of boys of fifteen don’t. And he seems a mite too interested in girls, but then at his age I suppose he would be.’

‘Does he have a regular girlfriend?’ asked Hugo. ‘Or does he just go around with a crowd?’

‘Oh, he has a girlfriend,’ said Mrs Kelly with a sniff. ‘And I can’t say I like her. She’s a Latin type; eyes that know it all. You know?’

‘I think so. Does he bring her here?’

‘Well, he certainly does. I’ve always encouraged him to bring his friends home, because everybody knows that’s how kids stay out of trouble. So he brings her home most Saturday nights.’

‘Not for the night?’ said Hugo, misunderstanding, appalled.

‘Of course not. That boy is a Catholic, and I see he goes to mass every Sunday and knows what’s what. I don’t think he would do anything – anything wrong. But she would. That girl would.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Donna. Donna Palladini.’

‘So what exactly is it that worries you?’

‘I told you, Mr Dashwood, I just don’t know. I think it’s that he’s a drifter. No sense of purpose. Now, Lee was determined he should go to college. He wants to go to college, he says. Even though the draft business is receding, thank God, and you don’t have to hide inside college any more, he still wants to go to. But he doesn’t seem to understand you have to work to get there. He never does anything. You know what his grades are like. Straight As in maths and geography and Spanish, and Ds and Es in everything else.’

‘Well look,’ said Hugo, ‘it doesn’t sound too worrying. Let me talk to Miles. I’m here for a day or two. Where is he?’

‘Friday afternoon – oh, he’ll be playing water polo. He’s in the team. He’s very good, I believe. And they have a great water polo team at Sarno High. I mean not everyone can get in it.’

Hugo smiled gently at her pride in the boy who worried her
so much and went for a walk along the Palisades, until Miles returned. It was a ravishing May afternoon: hot, clear, brilliant. The surf was up, the sea looked unreal in its blueness. The white beach was modestly littered with people. Cyclists zoomed along the boardwalk; tiny whirling toys from where he stood high above them. He wondered if Miles ever rode the bike he had given him last Christmas; he hadn’t seemed very interested, merely politely grateful.

He decided to drive up to the school and watch for Miles to come out. He wouldn’t declare himself, show himself to be meeting him, just observe him. It might be interesting.

He got back in the car and drove along Ocean Avenue and turned into Pico. The school was quiet; most of the kids were home already. He parked fifty yards down the street and waited.

Miles came out in a crowd, his arm round the shoulders of a very pretty girl. Hugo thought she was one of the prettiest girls he had ever seen. Dark, tall, slender, with big breasts and long long legs; she was quite outstanding. But then so was Miles. Tall already as a man, with golden-blond hair (a pity he had to have it hanging on his shoulders, but that was not an irremediable problem) and piercing dark blue eyes in his tanned face: he looked wonderful. Hugo felt a stab of pride and another of envy – of his youth, his lack of responsibility, his blatant, come-and-get-me sexuality. And he was only fifteen! No wonder old Mrs Kelly was worried.

Miles was dressed all in white – long white shorts, a white sweatshirt and white loafers. It all emphasized his golden, utterly desirable youth.