Cry For Kit Part 3

'Don't tempt providence! Let's pretend we didn't want any!'

He laughed, meeting my eyes for the first time. 'That's what I loved about you, your gifts of kindness and laughter.'

'I wasn't kind to you.'

'Did I deserve that you should have been? I ruined you. It was no thanks to me that you married well afterwards.'

'I hurt you. I've always regretted saying what I did.'

'It was the truth. Truth often hurts. I admit I didn't get much joy out of s.e.x after that, remembering...'

I opened my handbag and sought for my handkerchief. 'It wasn't true,' I said, blowing my nose, 'I was just being catty.'

'It was the truth. You looked me straight in the eye when you said it. If you have to lie, you always turn away and mumble-just as you are doing now, to save my feelings. Besides, Amy has always agreed with you.'

I wanted to say that I wouldn't mind hopping into bed with him that very moment, but I wasn't sure he would wish to do so.

'Johnny!' he said, reminding himself of the purpose of this interview. He'd obviously rehea.r.s.ed what he wanted to say, and was going to get it out, come what may. 'I'd like to meet him, if you don't object. I could fly over at Christmas time for a few days, or if he'd like to visit England, maybe I can find somewhere decent to live before then...'

'You really are going to sell your home?'

'It's the price I have to pay for a divorce. I can't keep White Wings and pay Amy half its value.'

'Not because of me, surely?'

'Yes.'

'One look in a mirror?'

'One look was enough before, wasn't it? I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, but it was too late. Three months too late. Then you disappeared...perhaps you were wise because I'd have pursued you otherwise; once Piers was born Amy had little use for me in bed. But there was the Works, and my son, and later on there was White Wings; there was no point in breaking with Amy while your husband was alive, although I've had enough evidence to divorce her for nearly five years. She's got a lover-a hair-stylist here in town. She does not wish to use him as a replacement for me, you understand; he is an extra. I suppose I ought to have objected more strongly when she took him on, but there have been so many arguments...disagreements about things I felt strongly about. The fault was mine, in that I did not care sufficiently one way or the other.'

'But she does not wish to lose you.'

'It takes two...! She cannot keep me. As for Piers, I said they would make him a director of the Mills on his eighteenth birthday over my dead body, and they have done so. He is not ready for it yet, but...he will not listen to me any longer. Also he inherits a large sum from a trust fund set up by his grandfather today, and he doesn't even need to draw on me for money any longer. I'm as free now as I'll ever be. Not free of guilt, of course, or remorse...and as you know, I'm not much good to a woman in bed. Crippled, but free, as you might say.'

'You mustn't destroy yourself. There's your position at the Mills...'

'Yes and no. If they sack me, I'll get compensation; but I don't think they will sack me because they will find it difficult to get a replacement who is capable of doing the job so well. I'm young enough to start again somewhere else, and I'm told my talents are rated high on the labour market. I shan't be able to afford another White Wings for some time, but I'll build another house somewhere, and it will become as dear.'

'You mean you've thought it all out and that nothing I say or do will influence you?'

'I wouldn't say that. A man doesn't often get a second chance at happiness. If you are not already committed, then I shall do my best to win you.'

'You mean you want to climb into bed with me again?'

'I mean marriage, if you'll have me, knowing that I'm a poor bargain. Don't flirt with me, Kit. You knew I meant to try when you saw me in the mirror last night. You gave yourself away. Admit it!'

'Just unfinished business. Then why not hop into bed with me and get it out of your system?'

'That was an offer!' remarked Edward the business man.

He took my chin in his fingers and forced me to look up at him. I could feel my face redden. He released me, opened the lid of the coffee-pot, emptied half the contents of the cups back in, helped us both to milk and sugar, and handed me my cup. He had recovered his nerve.

'Jumping into bed with you would be all right for today,' he said, 'but what about tomorrow and the day after? I want exclusive rights. I want all my dreams come true, in and out of bed.'

I sipped at my coffee and set it down. It was cold. I pulled the sugar basin towards me and started playing with the spoon. He took it off me, and possessed himself of my hands.

'Well, Kit?'

I pulled one of my hands free, and ran it over the gold bracelet of his watch. I unb.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt cuff, inserted my fingers between the fine cotton and the smooth skin on the inside of his arm...and curving my fingers, I drew my nails lightly, over it. He drew in his breath. He lowered his head. He couldn't move, and he didn't know where to look.

Satisfied, I reb.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt, smoothed down the fine cloth of his sleeve, and put my hand over his.

'It seems to me that you have everything that a woman might want,' I said. 'I'll marry you the moment you're free.'

'More coffee, sir?' asked the waiter.

I was uneasily happy. When the waiter interrupted us, Edward recalled that he had an important meeting at three o'clock, and we walked out together to his car. I had so much to tell him, about Johnny, and the attack on me, and Pat...then there was the promise I'd made Con, and the problem of Jack to be dealt with. Which should I speak of first, and when? Edward had said that much to his distress he could not see me again that day. He had promised Amy he would attend Piers' party at White Wings that night, and he felt he ought to go.

He held my arm tightly. Everyone could see we were in love. Happiness had loosened his tongue, and he laughed aloud.

'Do you realise this is the first time I've gone anywhere in public with you? Just walking across the square like this...I can hardly believe I'm awake. I've day-dreamed so many years, made so many plans for leaving Amy and put them off for another couple of months because there was Piers to be considered, and I was putting in a sprinkler system in the gardens, and there were the boys at the Club; I didn't want to let them down, and besides, I've grown very fond of one of them. You won't mind if I continue to go down there now and then, will you? And there's my dog. Crisp is his name. Not a suitable name for a dog, but Piers called him that. I've had to leave him with the gardener for the moment. He doesn't think much of women usually. To think I hesitated to leave Amy because you might not take to Crisp, or he to you! To think I might have gone on day-dreaming and doing nothing about it if I hadn't seen you...I did plan to go to New York when I heard about your husband's death, but then I wasn't sure you'd want to see me...'

For a moment I found it difficult to breathe. Con had spoken the truth. Edward would not have left Amy and thrown up his job, his son and his beloved home if I hadn't nudged him into action.

I couldn't go through with it. We had confused s.e.x and love, that was all. For a half-hour of purple pa.s.sion, Edward was prepared to throw away everything he valued. He had moved away from reality into his land of day-dreams, and it was up to me to rescue him.

He checked his watch, swinging me round to face him, delighting in the exercise of his superior strength. Then he saw my face and released me. His eyelids contracted. He knew he was about to get hurt.

'I was just thinking,' I lied, picking a bit of fluff from his jacket, 'how much I'm looking forward to showing you off to all my New York friends.' It would do no good to tell him that I didn't love him. I would have to strike more subtly, at his pride. 'I know what they'll say, that you attract women with money! After all, it must help to know that by leaving Amy you won't be any worse off, financially. You'll just love my little apartment in New York, although it isn't usually a good idea to have pets in a flat, as I'm sure you know. Besides, they mess the place up with their hairs and their feeding bowls. You could have Pat's study, and after a while I'll find you a post in one of the companies he used to own-I'm sure they'll find something for you if I ask nicely, though of course it wouldn't be anything like your present job...but then, I'd have you all to myself, all the time...no need for you to work anymore when you're my husband...'

'New York?' He took my hand and tried to make me face him, but I dived into my handbag for my compact and started to powder my nose.

'Why, of course. You don't really expect me to settle down here, in this crummy old place which doesn't even have a decent dress shop!' I managed a light laugh. 'Don't be ridiculous, my sweet! I'm used to a certain standard of living. No housework, for a start. Maids, and a chauffeur, and my own bathroom. That's an absolute minimum. I've got plenty of money, but I'm not laying it out to buy an inferior house in this neck of the woods.'

I didn't dare look at him. I frowned, turning on my heel to look round the Square. I felt like an executioner.

'It's not going to work, is it?' I said, addressing the sky. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him shake his head. 'We were stupid to think it would work, Edward. There's too much against it. We're both too set in our ways to change, and although your offer was very flattering, I'm glad we didn't get any further than having a cup of coffee together. Give Con a cheque for Johnny's money, and he will pa.s.s it on. Off you go to your meeting!'

He didn't move. I conquered an impulse to throw my arms round him and turned away, leaving him standing beside his car. I walked back to the hotel. On the steps I turned to wave goodbye. He was still standing there, looking at the spot where I'd been. I went in.

The receptionist gave me some letters and I asked him to book me a room at the Dorchester for that night. I said I'd been called back to New York unexpectedly, and would they please prepare my bill, and have some brandy sent up to my room.

My bedroom window overlooked the Square. Edward and his car had gone.

I had torn him to pieces all right, but I'd done the same thing to myself. I kept saying, out loud, as if to convince myself, that I had done the right thing, and that Edward would go back to Amy and Piers and his dog and White Wings and everything would be just the same for him as before. I argued that he would be happier in the future because I had destroyed his daydream.

My mental pain was so great that I couldn't sit down, but charged around the bedroom packing, b.u.mping into furniture, dropping things, brus.h.i.+ng my hair, anything to keep on the move...

For underneath the arguments I had used against marriage to Edward, there was another argument going on; that Edward was old enough to know exactly what he was doing, and that I'd no right to try to twist his life back into its old course by a trick. I didn't give a d.a.m.n where I lived or how much my clothes cost, and I quite liked cooking. It was true that I'd been used to having a bathroom of my own, but the thought of sharing one with Edward made me feel dizzy with joy. It was very possibly true that Edward would have delayed making the break with Amy if I had not returned, but now that I had, I feared the damage was done for good. He wouldn't have spoken so freely of his doubts if he hadn't overcome them. If Edward did not return to Amy, had I hurt myself and him for nothing? I tried to recall Con's arguments, but grew confused. If Edward left Amy but did not marry me, what would happen to his job, his house and his son?

Surely this agony could not be endured for nothing!

I ripped open the letters that had been waiting for me in the hotel; a note from Fred asking me to have lunch with him on the morrow, three letters from New York...I must remember that New York was 'home'!...and a packet containing eighteen battered gold charms. They were the ones Pat had given me, still recognisable but no longer fit to hang on a bracelet. It looked as if someone had taken a hammer to them.

The phone rang.

'Did you get the package I sent you?' enquired the hoa.r.s.e whisper. 'You'll get the same treatment yourself if you don't clear out.'

'Oh, I'm going.'

'Make sure you do. There's a train every hour on the hour. To show that we mean business, we've fixed your car for you.'

The phone went dead. I put it down and went to the window to see if I could locate my car, which was standing opposite. It looked all right to me, but even as I watched, a puff of metal ballooned up from the bonnet, followed by the sound of an explosion. Pa.s.sers-by screamed and cowered against nearby buildings. Flames? No. Yes. Police whistle. Someone running out of the Square. More screams, children wailing, parents clutching them.

Oh, G.o.d. What have I done?

CHAPTER THREE.

The phone rang. It was the receptionist, saying that Mr Straker had arrived to see me, and was asking if he might come up to my room.

'Who?' It couldn't possibly be Edward, could it?

'Mr Jack Straker,' said the receptionist. 'He's anxious about you, wants to be sure you weren't hurt in the bomb incident.'

Incident. I only caused it, I didn't get hurt in it.

'Is anybody hurt?' I asked.

No one had been hurt, they thought, only shocked. And no damage seemed to have been done except to the car. They said the owner would get a shock when he came back. So no one knew that it was my car.

Jack knocked and came in, carrying a sheaf of carnations. He was relieved to find I was still in one piece, but upset to see me crying. Before he could say anything, I asked if he'd find the brandy I'd ordered some time ago. The hotel staff were very pleasant, but not as efficient as those in New York. He thrust the carnations into my arms and went off, muttering about 'd.a.m.ned IRA frightening the life out of the women'.

I wondered what I'd do with the carnations. I supposed I could take them back to London with me, to cheer up my room at the Dorchester. I had returned to my packing when Jack came back with my drink.

'What are you packing for? I thought you were back for good.' He thrust a drink at me. 'Come on-drink up and tell your Uncle Jack what's gone wrong!' I shook my head. 'Have I done something? Said something stupid? Come on, love! Tell us why you sent me back my gold charm, at any rate!'

'I didn't. Someone stole my bracelet last night, and is returning the charms to their original owners.' I thought it was odd that Edward hadn't mentioned getting his charm back. I could now acquit him of responsibility for the attack on me, which left me without any clue as to the ident.i.ty of my a.s.sailant. It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered.

'What the devil would anyone do that for?' asked Jack. He was peering out of the window, half his attention on what was happening in the Square. 'The police have arrived...they'll soon sort it out. Is it the car bomb which has upset you, Kit? Surely not. You've more sense than to let that worry you. I thought you were staying, and that we could have some fun together, like old times.'

'You have your own friends...Con, Fred, Marge. I'm sorry Liz died, but...'

'Is it Marge that's worrying you? She's fine as a friend and marvellous as a business partner, but there's nothing else in it.'

'Would she say the same thing about you?'

He looked uncomfortable, and then stuck his jaw out, just like his brother. 'Maybe she did think it might work out. Maybe I thought it might, too. We jogged along merrily enough but somehow I've never been able to ask her to marry me, although I'd dearly love to take her kids over. When I saw you last night I suddenly realised how dreary I'd been feeling ever since Liz died. I'd felt that nothing was worth bothering about, you know? Hardly able to crawl around at work...helping Morton with his charities in the evenings to keep myself occupied. Hospital visiting...helping Edward with his Boys' Club. There was no fun in it. I was living a half-life without excitement or gaiety. I looked at Marge last night after we'd met you, and, I thought, I'm not dead yet, and I'm under no compulsion to propose to you. If I'd been sixty plus and looking for a spot of quiet companions.h.i.+p around the gas fire, maybe I'd have been able to settle for Marge, but I'm not sixty-I'm not yet thirty-five-and I'm d.a.m.ned if I'll settle for second best.'

I sat on the bed and howled. Jack knew what to do. He put an arm round my shoulders, handed me a handkerchief, and said, 'There, there!' every now and then. I respond to that sort of treatment. It occurred to me that I could tell Jack everything, without fear of it going any further.

'It's Edward, isn't it?' he asked, forestalling me. 'I saw you in the Square a while back, arm in arm.'

I peeped at him over the edge of his handkerchief. He looked sorry for me, but not stricken with jealousy.

'Did you know?'

'I knew he was mad about you years ago, but I wasn't sure how you felt about him. He made it obvious, didn't he, the way he used to watch you! The story got around that you dropped out of sight when he got married, which was why I never looked you up, afterwards. I thought you wanted it that way.'

'And you'd met Liz by that time!'

He grinned. 'There was that! Dear Kit, why the tears? You have my whole-hearted approval of the match.'

'You forget-Edward is already married.'

'Who could forget the gorgeous Amy!' He pulled a face. 'Brother Edward never complains, because our old man drummed it into him that it is a sign of weakness to do so, but I don't like to see dumb animals suffer...not that Edward is quite as dumb as he used to be, and Amy certainly doesn't get everything her own way, but you get my meaning?'

'I thought you two hated each other, but you sound as if you cared about him.'

'In my callow youth I was jealous of Edward because he was the old man's pet, and he was so strong and handsome whereas I was...quite the opposite. Then one day I found out who had paid for me to train as an architect, and I had to revise my opinion of him.' He pulled another face. 'Didn't you know, sweetheart? Our old man was the original improvident fool. He was in debt up to his eyelids and threatened with bankruptcy and worse, from which he was saved by my brother's falling in the Coulsters' way. Oh, ho! says Mr Coulster; here's a pretty young boy who'll not only keep Amy happy, but also keep the Mills afloat for another generation. Our old man gets his debts paid off, money is forthcoming for my training, and Edward gets a life sentence.'

'He said he had to marry her, but I didn't understand why.'

'"Come into my parlour", she said, and at first he went willingly. You know how we were brought up, Kit. No affection, no laughter. Amy is a clever girl. Edward was starving for affection, and she gave it to him. He had no money, and she was the richest girl in town. She talked of making him her prince...yes, really! I overheard her and laughed myself silly, but it was foolish of me, for a concern as big as Coulsters Mills is the modern equivalent of a Ruritanian kingdom, isn't it? She bought him presents, which no one had done since Mother died. She foretold a brilliant future for him, and hung on his every word. She induced her relations to welcome him. She dazzled him. He proposed willingly enough. Why wouldn't he? It was a fantastic opening for a young man without prospects or money, and, you see, they made it clear that the traffic wasn't one way, and that they valued him for what he could give them. And they were right! Edward would have gone to the top in any field, and the Coulsters were lucky to latch on to him when he was just starting. G.o.d, how terrified they were when he tried to back out! I can remember the fuss very clearly, although at the time I didn't understand what it was all about. I was thought too young and heedless to be included in the family councils, but I was able to put the pieces together later. Amy doesn't care what she says when she's in a bad temper, and our old man went all pathetic in his old age and told me the rest...wanting to justify his actions, I suppose.'

'What did happen?'

'Everyone put pressure on Edward to go through with the marriage. He was threatened with being blacklisted, promised shares in the Mills, our old man said he'd commit suicide...and when none of those things brought him to heel, Amy told Edward that she was pregnant.'

'Don't be daft. Piers is eighteen today, but Johnny's birthday fell six weeks ago, so she couldn't have been pregnant when he made love to me.'

'I didn't say she was pregnant. I said she told him she was. Subtle distinction. Got him to marry her under false pretences, if you ask me. Who's Johnny?'

'My son by Edward. Edward didn't even know he existed for several years, but he wants to acknowledge him now. It happened after you left for university.'

It was a shock to him. He blinked, recovered, and demanded that I tell him everything. I did, even down to my determination to leave town so that the evil I had brought on everyone might die down.

Jack listened without interruption, his face reflecting his concern over each facet of my story with rapid changes of expression. Unlike Edward, Jack was bad at concealing what he felt; later on that day I met someone else with the same mobility of feature, and was strongly reminded of him.

'Catalyst!' he exclaimed, when I had finished. 'You're not evil, and you're off-balance to think that you are. The evil and the hatred were here before, damped down and therefore twice as vicious. You are the catalyst, that's all. Your presence has given us all a little push, made us rea.s.sess existing situations, old relations.h.i.+ps; like me and Marge. You aren't responsible, because you didn't will any of this to happen. It's silly to blame yourself for my breaking with Marge, and as for feeling guilty about it-well, why should you? I knew you wouldn't marry me...well, perhaps it did cross my mind that I might ask you, but I probably wouldn't have done so. No! That's a lie. I did mean to ask you. Marge charged me with it last night, and I told her I would marry you, if you'd have me. I'd forgotten about Edward, and that he might have a prior claim on you until I saw you both together in the Square just now. It shook me, I can tell you. There, there! Not to cry! I went and had a drink and told myself there was no harm done, and that I'd come and congratulate you, and ask you to find me someone just as nice as you so that we could have a double wedding...!'