Laura Possessed (24 page)

‘Yes, I would. I know it will mean extra work, but you'll have me to help you this year, and I'm sure Gillian would too.'

‘Gillian!' said Caroline contemptuously.

‘What's she like,' Helen asked curiously, ‘Richard's new girl friend?'

Caroline bit her lip and it was left to Laura to answer tactfully, ‘Very nice. You've probably seen her on TV.'

There was a clamour of interest from the children. ‘What's her name? Gillian Marlowe? Yes, she was in “The Persuaders” once. And the Herries series which Mummy watched on BBC 2.'

‘That was before she became friendly with Richard,' Caroline said defensively. Helen dropped her fork and flew out of the room before her mother could stop her. Her voice reached them clearly.

‘Daddy, they are coming, aren't they? Gillian Marlowe too?'

Caroline called angrily, ‘Helen! Come here at once and eat your meal!'

The child came back dutifully and resumed her place. ‘I'll be able to get her autograph for all my friends,' she remarked with satisfaction. ‘Richard always knows such
interesting
people!'

‘What did you tell him?' Caroline demanded, as Edward also returned to the
table.

‘We could hardly say no, could we? Anyway, the more the merrier.'

Caroline did not reply, but later, when the children had gone to bed, she returned to the attack. ‘Surely you can see that it's most unsuitable for Richard to bring that woman? It was bad enough when they came here for the weekend, but fortunately Peter's too young to notice that kind of thing. But Robert and Helen—'

‘Relax, darling, he's promised to be the soul of discretion. We'll have to shuffle the bedrooms about a bit, but there'll be nothing untoward, don't worry.'

‘How many bedrooms are there at the villa?' Laura asked.

‘Three, two double and a single. Normally the boys share a room and Helen has the little one. There's also a pile of camp beds, but we've never needed them before.'

‘And how,' demanded Caroline, ‘do you propose to reshuffle?'

‘Simple. Laura and Gillian can have the boys' room, with Helen on a camp bed in the corner. We'll have Peter in with us, Richard can have Helen's room and Robert, as he said, can sleep on the sofa.'

‘It'll be like a doss house!' Caroline said disgustedly.

‘Nonsense! We're hardly there anyway, only to sleep.'

Edward
smiled across at Laura. ‘Richard will have a pleasant surprise when he sees you. You're like a different person!'

The coffee cup she was holding rattled on its saucer and she hastily replaced it on the low table. ‘Yes,' she answered quietly, ‘I suppose I am.'

The villa was painted strawberry pink. It had a riot of oleanders in its tiny garden and beyond the gate the ground fell away to shingle leading to the beach. Inside, it was cool and airy with stone floors and brightly painted shutters to all the windows.

‘Isn't it fabulous,' Gillian commented, ‘that they actually have to try to keep the heat
out
!'

Laura laughed and agreed. Since leaving England, she had been aware of a soaring of the spirits. Noel, having lost the battle against her going away, had let her go in peace. Perhaps she herself remained with Lewis. It didn't seem to matter. For the next three weeks she was free to relax with her family, and she was unequivocally grateful.

The days passed as Edward had foretold—days full of sand, sea and hot sunshine. They all lived in their swimsuits, their skins turning deep brown. Even Laura, who normally did not tan easily, acquired a lovely rich colour, and only the red-haired Gillian lamented her misfortune in having to stay under the beach umbrella for most of the day. Her thin birdlike body was even more minute in the skimpy
bikini
she wore and her arms, shoulders and face were liberally spattered with a peppering of freckles.

‘And how's my favourite sister?' Richard enquired lazily during the first week. ‘You're blossoming into quite a dish, my love!'

‘Thank you kindly, sir!'

‘That hair-do suits you. I should think it's cool, too, in this heat.'

‘But it makes her look a lot older,' Gillian remarked, rubbing the suntan oil along his smooth brown back.

‘Different, certainly. How's the magnum opus progressing?'

‘All right.' She didn't want to think about it, but added perforce, ‘All the preliminary work is finished now, so I'm ready to start writing in earnest.'

‘And did this fellow whatever his name is have as interesting a life as you hoped?'

‘Yes, indeed. What about you? Any new plays on the stocks?'

‘A couple, yes. One commissioned for a TV series, another for a single play slot. I'm going to have a shot at producing the single.'

‘So he won't have his precious dialogue mucked about!' Gillian said with a laugh, settling down beside him. ‘There was a ding-dong battle over the last one!'

‘I remember, it was when I was staying with you. I did enjoy that couple of weeks, even though I was feeling so groggy.'

‘But
not enough, apparently, to come back when invited,' Richard remarked, opening one eye to look at her reproachfully.

‘I couldn't at that particular point. I'd just decided on the book.'

‘Well, now you've reached a pause, how about coming back with us straight from here? We'd love to have you, wouldn't we, Gillie?'

‘Of course we would.'

‘It's sweet of you, but by the time we get back, I'll have been away long enough for the moment.'

‘It's a shame we haven't more room at the flat. I have the feeling you'd be better off with us than with the worthy Edward and his good lady!'

Laura smiled a little guiltily. ‘They've been very good to me.'

‘Caroline too?' Richard enquired with raised eyebrow.

‘Certainly. I know you don't like her—'

‘Really? I hoped I'd managed to conceal the fact. God, she puts years on me! Expects every man within range to pay her homage. It wouldn't wash with me and she's never forgiven me!'

‘Oh, Richard!' Laura protested laughingly. ‘She's not that bad!'

‘As hard as nails too,' Richard continued imperturbably. ‘Every time I see her I have a regrettable urge to try to shock her!'

‘If it's any comfort, you nearly always
succeed!'

‘How gratifying! Oh, Laurie!' He reached out for her hand. ‘You don't know how good it is to have this kind of conversation with you again—just like old times. Last time I saw you at Four Winds, you were so uptight I could hardly get near you, and dear Caroline put the fear of God into me with wild talk about dreams and portents and Lord knows what else. That's why I did my damnedest to get you to come back with us.' He laughed. ‘What a lot of moonshine it seems now!'

She returned the pressure of his fingers and did not reply. These few weeks were too precious to spoil with doubts and conjectures. If only she need never go back! She pulled herself up sharply. Not go back to Lewis? And to underline her perfidy, it was at that moment that Edward, who had been to the village, appeared above her and dropped a letter onto her.

She sat up quickly, her fingers trembling as she tore it open. Unlike Paul, Lewis had begun uncompromisingly, ‘My darling—' She read through the letter with her heart thundering against her ribs. Seeing the words of love in black and white was like hearing them for the first time and as her eyes lingered over the tender, passionate phrases, she was filled once more with restless impatience to get back to him.

‘Stop brooding, Laura!' Richard
commanded,
tugging her to her feet. ‘Gillie and I are going for a swim. Come and join us!'

She slipped the letter under her towel and ran down the beach with them, and as she ran, the impact of Lewis fell away again and receded into a past which, until it linked up with the future on her return to Brocklehurst, could for the time being be put out of mind.

The holiday was punctuated with such interludes. Laura's share of the post became a family joke. She had three letters from Paul while they were away, and six or seven from Lewis. The fact that no one else received any added to her embarrassment. And all Paul's began circumspectly, ‘Dear Laura.' Several times she found herself wishing just a few of Lewis's extravagant words could overflow into Paul's unembellished prose, but she was quick to push such thoughts away. If she had responded differently in the car that day, she knew that Paul's letters would have been very different. She had only herself to blame. Somehow that knowledge brought little comfort.

The weeks slid into one another. They spent a day in Venice, another in Viareggio, but for the most part they slept and swam and ate. They stopped at the little shop each morning on the way to the beach to buy bottles of the local wine, long loaves, fruit and cheeses for their picnic lunch. The adults never wanted much to eat in the middle of the day, though
the
children's appetites were undiminished.

After lunch each day, Richard and Gillian returned to the villa for their siesta, allegedly because the midday sun was too strong for her fair skin and Richard was too gallant to allow her to go back alone. That explanation patently satisfied the children, which was all that mattered, but Laura was always uncomfortably aware of Caroline's hard, resentful eyes following the two of them as they wandered hand in hand up the shingle. They usually returned soon after three, and at five or six they would all wander back in twos and threes, queuing for the shower. It was only then that the women changed into dresses for the evening meal which, Italian fashion, they ate about nine o'clock. It was a long day for the children, especially Peter, but since they slept a lot on the beach they were all allowed to stay up with the others.

The evening meal was the time of the day that Laura loved most, sitting outside the restaurant under the gay awning while the exotic food was laid before them, hearing the laughter of their fellow diners and looking across the square to the lights of the pavement cafes where other holiday-makers, French, German and American, sat drinking coffee or Campari-soda.

Sometimes her eyes would go slowly round their table, imprinting the individual features of the family on her mind as though this might
be
the last chance she had of being with them: Edward, unusually tanned and relaxed in his open-neck shirt; Richard, even more handsome with his teeth flashing in his brown face; Caroline, beautiful but a little withdrawn; Gillian, quiet and unobtrusive, never far from Richard's side, and the three children: Helen, whose puppy-fat was fining down in preparation for young womanhood; Robert, tall and rather gawky; and young Peter, intent as always on his food. Her heart seemed to swell almost to bursting point with love for them all. If only time could stand still, petrifying them into this everlasting contentment. But against her chair lay her handbag, containing the silver compact and the growing collection of love letters, symbols of that other life to which she had no option but to return.

At last the three weeks were up and it was time to pack for home. On the last day of August they reluctantly locked up the villa, clean, bare and impersonal once more, and piled into the two waiting taxis that were to take them to the airport. Edward and Caroline went in the first with the two younger children, Robert hanging back to go with Laura, Richard and Gillian in the second. During the holiday, Laura had become somewhat ruefully aware of Robert's passionate admiration for his debonair uncle, and his mother's furious resistance to it.

Several
times, to the shared amusement of herself and Gillian, Robert had nonchalantly suggested that he and Richard should walk round the point to the next bay, or go on ahead of the others to the restaurant, or some other excuse to get him to himself. Richard, good-humoured as always and not unnaturally gratified by such obvious admiration, had complied, with a secret wink at the two girls, his enjoyment of the situation considerably enhanced by Caroline's silent resentment.

Now, in the taxi, the boy began diffidently, ‘Do you think it would be at all possible for me to come up to London and spend a few days with you before term starts? It would be great if I could go along to the TV studios with you one day. I've decided I want to write plays myself when I leave school.'

Richard shot a wary look at Gillian, but she was answering pleasantly, ‘Of course you must come, if your parents will let you. There are all kinds of things we can show you, and I'm sure it could be arranged for you to watch some rehearsals for Richard's play.'

‘Gosh!' Robert turned his radiant face towards her. ‘That would be just groovy! Are you in it?'

Gillian laughed. ‘I'm in one of them, yes.'

Laura reflected that Gillian was much more natural and forthcoming away from the aura of Caroline. She wondered if she shared Richard's dislike of his sister-in-law or merely
felt
uncomfortable in face of her unyielding disapproval.

‘We don't want Helen, of course,' Robert said firmly. ‘She'll probably want to come, but she'd only get in the way.'

‘She could always come another time if she'd like to,' Gillian said tactfully.

The taxi swung off the road, taking the turning for the airport. Overhead, giant silver planes screamed in take-off.

‘I bet it's raining in London!' Robert said gloomily.

Richard laughed. ‘Never mind, it's been a wonderful holiday, and all the rain in the world won't be able to wash away the memory of it.'

Laura stumbled out of the taxi after Gillian. Her disinclination to return to Brocklehurst had returned in full force and she grasped at her brother's words to comfort her. At least she had the holiday to remember, the mental photograph of the circle of faces round the table.