Something Dangerous (Spoils of Time 02) (15 page)

‘But Sebastian, how can you lose me to a baby? This is your baby. Well, yours and mine, we’ve made it together.’

‘Darling, I know. And I’m sure it will be beautiful and fascinating and all those things, although I must say I do find babies very unattractive. But they improve with time, I do admit that.’

‘So, then, what—’

‘It’s because we agreed we wouldn’t have any children. Well, not for a long time. And we knew why. Because we wanted to be together. Alone together, in our own – what shall I call it? – our own personal world. Pandora, ever since I met you, I haven’t wanted to see anyone else, talk to anyone else, be with anyone else. I haven’t even begun to discover enough about you. Every day still, I learn more and I love more about you. And now, it seems, I have to share you. With a baby.’

‘Well I’m sorry, Sebastian. It’s not my fault. I promise you I didn’t do anything to scupper our birth control arrangements on purpose. If that was what you thought.’

‘Of course not. Of course I didn’t. But—’

‘And I seem to remember you playing a very active role in the baby’s creation. I even think I know when it was. That night in London, after the opera. After
Bohème
. I remember lying there, after you had gone to sleep, hearing
o care mio
in my head, thinking that it had been perfect, loving you was perfect, making love had just been perfect, more perfect even than usual. Darling, please try to be pleased.’

‘I will try,’ he said, leaning over, kissing her, ‘I will try very hard. I think I felt just a tiny sliver of being pleased then, actually. And I remember
Bohème
and afterwards too. Anyway, the important thing now is to look after you. Are you sure you feel all right, what do we have to do to keep you well and strong, I suppose now you really must give up work. That will be nice at least, we can have lunch together every day—’

‘I’m not sure I want to have lunch together every day,’ said Pandora laughing. ‘I like to read over lunch. Read uninterrupted,’ she added, as he opened his mouth, clearly to argue. ‘But yes, the doctor did say I should give up work. I’m quite old to be having a first baby. I have to get lots of rest. Eat lots of fresh vegetables, all that sort of thing—’

‘When is it – going to be born?’ he asked.

‘Oh – May. Early May, the doctor thought. Specially if I was right about
Bohème
. Now I don’t think we should tell anyone yet, do you? I’d rather keep it a secret from everyone. Don’t you agree? Our secret. Just for now. I rather dread all the fuss. And I dread to think what Celia will have to say about it.’

‘Yes,’ said Sebastian, and his face was oddly sombre, ‘yes, I think I rather dread that too.’

‘Hallo, Barty. Remember me?’

Maud stood in the doorway of Barty’s small office, smiling. Barty smiled back. She had always liked Maud.

‘Yes, of course. How nice to see you.’

‘Nice to see you too. Can I come in a minute, or are you too busy?’

‘Well—’ Barty hesitated; she was extremely busy. She had some proofs which were promised for before lunch and it was already nearly twelve.

‘It’s OK,’ said Maud, recognising the hesitation, ‘I’ll come back.’

‘Oh – I feel awful now. It’s just that I am a bit pressed. I’ll be all right later.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Listen, Giles and I are having a spot of lunch. Why don’t you join us?’

‘I can’t. Really. I’m sorry. But after work I could – we could have a hot chocolate or something. If you weren’t busy.’

Maud smiled. ‘I’m not busy. And hot chocolate sounds just fine. I love it. Where do we get it?’

‘The Corner House down the road. Ask Giles if he’d like to join us.’

‘I will.’

And the hot chocolate became supper at the Corner House and then the three of them went to the pictures, which Maud called the movies, and saw
Broadway Melody
which, Maud told them, had won the Academy Award that year, and after that, they all went back to Barty’s flat which Maud said she was just dying to see and then Abbie joined them for more hot chocolate and took a great fancy to Maud and they all talked for what seemed like hours until Maud jumped and said goodness, look at the time and that they really should be getting back to Cheyne Walk.

‘Daddy still thinks I’m about four and a half,’ and Giles told her she was lucky and that his mother thought he was nearer two.

‘You should have parents like mine,’ said Abbie, ‘they hardly remember I exist, half the time.’

The next morning, after Giles had gone, Robert was mildly reproachful with Maud: ‘What on earth were you doing until nearly midnight?’

‘Talking,’ said Maud, ‘with Giles and Barty.’

‘All evening?’

‘No, of course not. We went to the movies and then we went back to Barty’s apartment. It’s so nice there, very small, but she’s made it look just wonderful. I loved it and so did Giles.’

‘What did Giles love?’ said Celia, who had walked into the room.

‘Barty’s apartment. Pardon me, her flat. He says he goes there quite often after work, to have a chat and a hot chocolate. My goodness, that girl can make good chocolate.’

‘Since Giles sees Barty all day long I’m surprised he feels the need to talk to her in the evening as well,’ said Celia.

‘Well, he does. They are obviously just very good friends,’ said Maud. ‘And you can’t ever have enough time to chat to your friends. And there was this darling girl called Abbie there, Barty’s best friend, she was just so nice, I expect you’ve met her?’

‘Actually no,’ said Celia. ‘And some of us have to manage without time to chat. Now I must go, it’s late and I have the most dreadful day ahead. I’ll see you both this evening. Or are you disappearing with Barty again, Maud? Of course you must do exactly what you like, but—’

‘Aunt Celia, I’ll be here.’

When Celia had gone, Maud looked at her father. ‘I think I boobed there,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I should have told her Giles went to Barty’s apartment.’

‘Oh, I don’t see why not. I’m sure it’s perfectly innocent,’ said Robert easily. ‘They’re practically brother and sister after all.’

‘Not quite,’ said Maud consideringly, ‘in fact, not at all. And I would say, Daddy, that what Giles feels for Barty is not very brotherly at all. He clearly just adores her. Everything she says, he listens to with immense attention, you know? And asks for her opinion on everything, and whatever she does, his eyes follow her.’

‘You’ve been reading too many romantic novels,’ said Robert laughing, ‘and does she reciprocate this adoration, do you think?’

‘I don’t read any romantic novels,’ said Maud indignantly. ‘And no, I don’t think she does. He really is just a brother to her. And anyway, Barty’s energies are all to do with her career. She is hugely ambitious, you know. I like her so very much. She’s a completely original person.’

‘I do agree she is very charming,’ said Robert. ‘Charming and interesting. Pretty, too. And if Giles is in love with her I can see why. However, all other things being equal, I think it would be better if you were mistaken. Now I’m off to do some business for a while. What about you?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I have some serious shopping to do this morning with Adele. And then I want to go and spend some time just wandering about, soaking up some British architecture. Kit – goodness, but that boy is intelligent – Kit says I should go and see the Nash terraces in Regent’s Park. Apparently they are beautiful beyond belief.’

‘I’ll see you this evening then,’ said Robert.

‘Sebastian,’ said Celia, her voice meltingly agreeable down the telephone line, ‘I wonder if you would be kind enough to come in some time in the next few days. We really need to discuss the Christmas promotions for
Meridian Times Ten
; usually we’ve done it much earlier than this, as you know. It is really rather inconvenient your being in Oxford so much.’

‘Well, I’m sorry if it inconveniences you, Celia,’ said Sebastian. He sounded irritable. ‘Perhaps we should consider moving more permanently to London to suit you.’

‘Perhaps you should.’

‘I wasn’t entirely serious. Pandora likes it here, loves her house and her job, as you very well know. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do about coming up. It’s a little difficult this week.’

He didn’t want to leave Pandora; she had begun to feel less well, nauseous and terribly tired.

‘Well, shall we proceed without you?’ said Celia.

‘Absolutely not. No.’

‘Well, in that case’ – her voice was less agreeable now – ‘you’re going to have to come down. I’m sorry. Is there some kind of difficulty?’

‘No. No, of course not. It’s just that Pandora is – well, having some problems and—’

‘Problems? What kind of problems?’

‘Oh – professional ones, of course. At the Bodleian.’ God, he wished it were true, that the problems Pandora had were truly so simple, so wellcontained.

‘I’m sorry to hear that. They must be quite serious, if you feel it incumbent upon you to put them before your own work.’

‘They aren’t very serious, Celia,’ said Sebastian, keeping his voice level with a considerable effort, ‘but for the next few days, I want to be here with her. I’m sorry. Good morning to you.’

Later that afternoon, a letter arrived for Celia by hand from Foyles in the Charing Cross Road; would Sebastian like to be guest of honour at one of their famous literary luncheons in November? And could Lady Celia let them have an answer very quickly, within twenty-four hours if possible . . .

Pandora was half asleep by the fire when the telephone rang; Sebastian had gone out to buy some of the salmon that was the only thing she could consider eating for supper. Slightly confused, she made her way out to the hall to answer the phone and sat on the stairs, rubbing her eyes and yawning; it was Celia.

‘Pandora? It’s Celia. How are you? I’m extremely sorry to hear of your problems.’

‘My – problems?’ Had Sebastian told Celia about the baby?

‘Yes. Sebastian is clearly very worried about you.’ Obviously he had.

‘Oh, really?’ she said carefully.

‘Yes. Refusing to come to London for what is really a very important meeting. Very loyal of course, but – well, is he there?’

‘No, Celia, I’m afraid he’s not just at the moment. He’s—’

‘Well, ask him to telephone me, would you please? Urgently. Tell him there’s another matter that I need to talk to him about.’

Pandora tried to tell herself that Celia did not mean to be rude, that as Sebastian’s publisher and editor she did have a genuine and regular need to communicate with him, and said that of course she would tell Sebastian. ‘Would you like to be more explicit about whatever it is? So that I can give him an intelligent-sounding message?’

‘Oh good heavens, no. Much too complicated. Just pass that on, would you? And I do wish you well with your – problem.’

‘Celia.’ Pandora heard her voice growing as cool as Celia’s own, and felt a flash of anger with Sebastian, not only for telling Celia when they had agreed they would not, but for the way in which he had done so. ‘Celia, whatever Sebastian may feel about the matter, I don’t think having a baby should be described in quite such terms.’

There was an absolute silence from the other end of the line; then finally, ‘A – baby?’ said Celia. ‘You’re having a baby?’

‘Well – yes. Isn’t that what he said to you?’

‘No,’ said Celia, and her voice was odd, different, very quiet. ‘No, that isn’t what he said, Pandora. I’m sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t realise. How – wonderful for you. You really must – must accept my congratulations. Good afternoon.’

Pandora put the phone down and sat staring at it. She felt even more sick. Sebastian hadn’t told Celia about the baby; he’d told her some other, bland lie. Wanting, as he’d said to her, to break the news to her himself, as gently and as carefully as he could. And she’d presented her with it instead: not gently, not carefully but probably rather brutally. It had been very silly of her altogether, thought Pandora with a sigh; now everyone would have to know, which was exactly what they didn’t want. And Sebastian would be cross with her: very cross. There was no doubt in her mind about that.

He wasn’t cross: but he was clearly worried, upset even.

‘How did she sound?’ he asked, and Pandora said carefully, trying to be truthful, that she’d clearly been a bit surprised, but—

‘And what did she say?’

‘Well, nothing much. She congratulated me. As anyone would. Actually she said it was wonderful. So I don’t think she was too upset by it.’

‘I – hope not,’ he said.

He walked over to the window, stood staring out into the dusk. Pandora felt a stab of violent irritation; for God’s sake, why did they have to worry about Celia all the time? She was like a living ghost, haunting their lives. It wasn’t fair; she was married to Sebastian, she was having his baby, why did it matter so much what Celia might feel or say about it?

‘Sebastian—’ she said, trying to keep her voice gentle.

‘Pandora,’ he said, ‘please. I’m trying to think.’

He turned, looked at her for a moment, then walked out of the room. She heard him open the study door, heard it shut again, heard the telephone extension sound; she walked out into the hall then, unable to resist, heard him saying loudly through the door, ‘Celia, please, please—’ and then his voice became very low, the words unintelligible. Eventually the phone slammed down and a silence ensued. She went back quietly into the sitting room, sat in her chair once more.

He came in, and knelt in front of her, took her hands.

‘Pandora,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry. But there’s something I – that I haven’t told you. And I think I really need to tell you now. And I’m so, so sorry—’

‘Apparently Pandora’s not well,’ said Adele to Venetia. ‘Sebastian’s just refusing to come to London at all, and Mummy’s absolutely furious because she needs him for meetings and things and keeps shouting at him on the telephone—’

‘Who told you?’

‘Well, Daddy, that she’s not well. And Giles about the shouting.’