‘Can I get you anything? A beer, coffee . . .?’
‘Cup of tea would be nice. A large one.’
‘You shall have it. Oh, Tom, I’m so glad to see you. Let me just get your tea and I’ll start.’
She was back quickly, bearing two rather small mugs of tea. ‘These are the biggest I could find.’
‘Thank you. Now – come on. You have all your friend’s attention.’
‘All right. I might cry a bit.’
‘That’s OK. I’m used to women’s tears.’ He looked at her. ‘Well, you’re not pregnant. As you were planning. Didn’t it work out?’
‘I – well, I wasn’t actually planning it. That was a lie. I was pregnant. Just over three months. But – well, I lost it.’ Her voice shook. ‘It was so sad, I really, really wanted that baby. Anyway, Johnathan came down, and he was dreadfully upset too; he couldn’t have been sweeter. And when we got back to Yorkshire, even the wicked witch was kind to me. But it didn’t help. I got more and more depressed, couldn’t sleep, cried all the time, and Johnathan kept saying there could always be another baby, stupid things like that.’
It didn’t sound that stupid to Tom, but he didn’t say so.
‘Then, out of the blue, Blanche called – you met her at the funfair that day, the fashion editor of Style. Anyway, she said how sorry she was to hear about the baby, but she still hadn’t got anyone for Paris – for the collections, you know –’
Tom nodded wisely.
‘And it was like the sun suddenly coming out, and I just knew, absolutely knew, that was the thing to do. Go to Paris, work hard and then come back and maybe then I’d feel brave enough to have another baby. Anyway, I went to talk to Johnathan, and said how I felt so much better, just thinking about it, and I hoped it would be all right – I’d only be away for a week. And he went very quiet, and said he’d think about it and the next day he came into the morning room and accused me of having an abortion.’
‘What!’ Tom was shocked. Literally, physically shocked. He had wondered about Johnathan, of course, how he could be so tolerant as to let his wife come to London for days at a time, to be photographed and feted, leaving her husband and little boy to fend for themselves – although of course there was always the omnipresent staff, Nanny and the housekeeper; it was different if you were rich.
But – clearly it wasn’t. The long-suffering, patient, generous-hearted Johnathan was like any other man, hurt, angry and jealous.
‘Yes. He said it was very odd I had chosen to go to London then, when it was just within the time limit for an abortion; that it was my way out of it, and my excuse to go on going to London and “racket about with your friends” as he put it. I was so shocked and hurt, I didn’t know what to do or say, I just went to my room and stayed there.
‘There were three awful days when he wouldn’t even speak to me. Finally I said to him at breakfast that if he wasn’t going to speak to me, and he thought that badly of me, I might as well say yes to Paris.
‘Whereupon he said if I did go he would divorce me, he had plenty of grounds. I don’t know that he has. Oh, Tom, it’s so dreadful. I’d never see Jamie again. I don’t know where to turn. Or what to do. But the worst thing, and you’ve got to believe me, is that I would never, ever have an abortion. I just wouldn’t, I couldn’t.’
She started to cry. Tom put first one arm round her shoulders and then rather nervously the other, and held her while she sobbed, saying nothing, occasionally stroking her hair and once or twice kissing the top of her head; and she clung to him as if she was in actual physical danger, as if he was some kind of rock, a refuge against the storm that raged about her.
Finally she released herself with a huge shuddering sigh, and tried to smile, her face swollen from crying and oddly distorted. ‘What shall I do, Tom? I just don’t know what to do. Oh, look, please have a drink, I need one so terribly and I can’t drink alone, it’s such an awful thing to do.’
What an extraordinary creature she was, Tom thought, talking as if drinking alone was as heinous a crime as – well, having an abortion. He released her carefully, set her back from him on the sofa and smiled.
‘I think in this particular instance, it would be all right. You have a gin and tonic and I’ll just have tonic. I daren’t arrive home late and drunk.’
‘Is your wife such a tyrant?’ she said, getting up and going over to what he presumed was that mysterious thing, a drinks trolley.
‘No, she’s an angel,’ said Tom. ‘She’s incredibly supportive in many ways and I don’t deserve her.’
‘Well, I hope she deserves you, Friend Tom. Now what should I do? Please tell me.’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ said Tom, sipping his tonic. ‘But people do say horrible things when they’re hurt and upset. I’m sure he was very unhappy about the baby too.’
‘Yes, well, you of all people should know that,’ said Diana soberly.
‘I do,’ said Tom quietly, drinking the tonic water rather fast.
‘Anyway, what should I do?’
‘Well, don’t give up on Johnathan yet,’ said Tom. ‘I know it was a terrible thing to say, but unhappiness makes us cruel. I’ve said some pretty harsh things to Alice from time to time. I’d put quite a lot of money, if I had any, on his coming round and apologising. If he doesn’t, if it goes on, then obviously you have to think again.’
‘I should never have married him,’ said Diana sadly. ‘It was very wrong of me.’
Tom looked at her sharply. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because I didn’t love him,’ said Diana. ‘All right then, I’ll try to do what you say. And should I go to Paris, do you think? It really would cheer me up.’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Tom, sounding as stern as he could. ‘You’d wipe out any goodwill at a stroke.’
She sighed, then managed a watery smile.
‘All right. I’ll do my best. But I can’t promise anything. You’ve no idea what it’s like living with someone who hates you. Or at best dislikes and mistrusts you. That hurts. Oh, Tom, dear Friend Tom, I know you’ve got to go, but thank you so much for coming and listening to me, and advising me. Just talking to you has made me feel better. I just hope I can do the same for you one day. Contrary to what you might think, I’m very good at keeping secrets. Go on, home to Alice the angel and I’ll hope to see you very soon.’
She was very tall, hardly had to reach up to kiss him, but she did, a long, gentle kiss on the lips. It was confusing, that kiss, albeit not in the least carnal. Tom said good luck, and half stumbled out of the front door and down into the perfectly groomed Padster Mews, where he stood for a while, taking deep breaths and steadying himself.
She was danger, was Diana Southcott. He was more aware of it with every meeting. He started to run, hoping for three things. That Alice wouldn’t be too cross with him; that he had no lingering whiff of Diana’s heady, heavy perfume about him; and that she would not go to Paris.
Chapter 30
1952