Harriet (16 page)

    Harriet, expecting indifference, hauteur, antagonism, was completely disarmed by such friendliness. In the drawing-room, they found Ronnie Acland talking to Cory about shooting.

    Harriet was further surprised to find herself liking Ronnie Acland, who was a tall, handsome, rather florid man in tweeds, with a loud voice and excellent teeth. He seemed to be smiling all the time, probably from embarrassment.

    Cory had completely regained his sang-froid. He gave the impression of being slightly bored by this intrusion. Not once did the aloof, unsmiling face betray the turmoil that must have been raging within.

    God, he’s cool, thought Harriet in admiration. I could never behave like that if I suddenly had to face Simon.

    Noel took her drink from Cory, running a caressing finger along his hand as she did so, and then wandered round the room moving ornaments and straightening pictures.

    ‘When did this fire start smoking?’ she asked Cory, kicking a log with a blond suede shoe.

    At that moment, Kit wandered in, wearing obscenely tight strawberry pink trousers.

    For a moment Noel stiffened. She hadn’t bargained on Kit.

    ‘Whatever are you doing here?’ she said, trying to keep the hostility out of her voice.

    Kit stared at her insolently for a minute, then yawned so hard that Harriet thought he was going to dislocate his jaw.

    ‘I’m visiting my brother Cory - your husband, if you remember. And laying siege to this steaming girl,’ he said, putting an arm round Harriet’s shoulders and kissing her on the cheek. ‘But you’ve put that bloody bow back on again,’ he added.

    And once again he pulled off the ribbon that tied back Harriet’s hair, letting it spill in a dark cloud over her shoulders. Leaving her scarlet with confusion, he turned and smiled at Ronnie Acland.

    ‘We haven’t met,’ he said amiably, ‘but I gather you’re going to be Mr. Noel Balfour Number Two. Or is it Three? I can never keep track.’

    Harriet escaped to the kitchen to find Mrs. Bottomley red-faced over the duck.

    ‘Whew, it’s tense in there,’ she said. ‘Do you think I have to have lunch with them?’

    ‘Yes,’ said Mrs. Bottomley. ‘Mr. E’ll expect you to keep an eye on the children. She’s very hot on manners, Mrs. E.’’Oh God,’ said Harriet. ‘By the way, I put some more salt in the soup.’

    ‘So did I,’ said Mrs. Bottomley.

    Lunch for Harriet was a nightmare. Beneath the idle chatter, the tinkle of glasses, the exclamations of pleasure over the food, the ultra-civilized behaviour, lay the jungle.

    She was amazed that these people could act as though nothing was the matter, that they could discuss friends, swap gossip, with such apparent amicability.

    Noel never stopped talking - the rich, husky voice flowing on and on, about Paris and parties given in her honour and the film she’d been shooting in Africa, and what the man at Cartier’s had said about the ring Ronnie had bought her.

    Kit, having downed three large dry Martinis on an empty stomach before lunch, was thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘Marvellous soup,’ he said to Harriet. ‘I always think there are two things a woman should do instinctively. And one of them’s cooking!’

    Noel took a mouthful and immediately asked for a glass of water.

    ‘That’s a soup spoon, not a trowel,’ she said sharply to Chattie. ‘Why do my children always eat as though they were gardening? I suppose it’s the influence of television.’

    ‘What a clever woman you’d have been, Noel, if you’d have been to University,’ said Kit.

    ‘I hear you hunt a lot,’ said Ronnie hastily to Cory, before Noel could think up a crushing reply.

    Her beautiful tawny eyes had taken on a dangerous smouldering look, which increased as Ronnie and Cory got into a discussion about different packs. She obviously didn’t like to be out of the limelight for a second. When the duck arrived, she took a mouthful and this time immediately asked for the salt and then rained pepper down on to her plate.

    Next moment a diversion was caused by the arrival of Sevenoaks, straight from the stream at the bottom of the garden. He greeted Harriet rapturously and then bounded up to Noel. She drew away from him in horror.

    ‘Where did that dreadful beast come from? Look at the mess he’s making on the carpet.’

    ‘It’s Harriet’s dog,’ said Cory.

    ‘He needs a bath,’ snapped Noel.

    ‘He needs a psychiatrist,’ said Cory.

    ‘Is there any orange salad?’ Noel asked Harriet, after Sevenoaks had been forcibly removed.

    ‘Quit upstaging, Noel!’ said Kit sharply.

    Noel glared at him, pushed the food to the side of her plate and lit a cigarette.

    ‘Did I tell you I spent a week in Israel last month?’ she said to Cory. ‘I’ve never seen anything like the wild flowers around the Sea of Galilee. And I actually saw the place they fed the five thousand.’

    ‘If you’d spurned your fish and loaves the way you’ve treated Harriet’s much more miraculous duck you’d have been excommunicated, darling,’ said Kit.

    ‘It’s a pity you’re not staying longer, Mummy. You won’t see Daddy riding in the point-to-point,’ said Chattie. Noel turned her tawny eyes on Cory.

    ‘But, darling, that’s wonderful!’ she said. ‘You’re racing again, after all this time! Might you win?’

    Cory shook his head. ‘Not a chance. She’s only a baby, and it’s her first race.’

    Noel’s eyes lit up. ‘Do you remember that race you won the day we got home from our honeymoon? Goodness, how excited we were, and how we celebrated.’

    ‘And what appalling hangovers we had the next day,’ said Cory dryly.

    ‘Harriet had a hangover this morning,’ said Chattie. ‘A nd she always does when Daddy takes her out, too.’

    Noel’s face hardened. She looked from Cory to Harriet. ‘Come on, Cory, open another bottle,’ said Kit. ‘The drink’s flowing like concrete.’

    ‘What was that marvellous Beaujolais we had when we dined with Jackie Onassis, the night the Aga Khan was there?’ Noel asked Ronnie.

    ‘Pick up those names, darling,’ drawled Kit, ‘you’re not impressing anyone.’

    No. asked angrily. Ronnie turned to Chattie. ‘And what a; you going to do when you grow up?’ he asked. Chattie beamed at him. ‘I’m not going to get married,’ she said. ‘I might make a habit of it, like Mummy.’

    Kit and Ronnie shouted with laughter. Even Cory grinned.

    ‘Ronnie’s a fine one to laugh,’ said Noel angrily. ‘He’s had three wives already!’

    ‘His own or other people’s?’ said Kit.

    Harriet felt depression descending on her. She got up to remove the plates and bring in the pudding. Kit followed her into the kitchen.

    ‘Marvellous party,’ he said.

    Harriet said nothing.

    ‘Oh, darling, relax, enjoy it. Noel’s putting on a command performance.’

    ‘And what about Cory?’ said Harriet savagely, clattering plates into the sink.

    ‘You mustn’t ever forget that Cory’s a writer,’ said Kit.

    ‘It’s all grist to his mill. This entire lunch will appear in a screen play one day.’

    Back in the dining-room, Ronnie Acland was doing his best to keep the conversation going. ‘How’s the latest script?’ he asked Cory.

    ‘It’s not,’ said Cory.

    ‘I enjoyed your last book,’ said Kit, refilling everyone’s glasses. ‘I came across it in a girlfriend’s bedroom, and stayed up all afternoon reading it.’

    Cory smiled.

    ‘Harriet makes bloody lovely puddings; said Chattie dreamily, making rivers of cream in her chocolate mousse. ‘If you’re going to marry Ronnie, Mummy, why can’t Daddy marry Harriet?’

    There was a frozen pause, then Kit began to laugh. Har- riet knocked her wine glass over.

    Cory calmly dipped his napkin in the water jug and started sponging the red stain.

    ‘I don’t know where you’re intending to stay tonight,’ he said to Ronnie Acland, ‘but a very good hotel’s just opened at Bolton Abbey,’ and launched into a dissertation on its merits.

    Suddenly, there was a faint wail from upstairs.

    ‘Oh, there’s William crying,’ said Harriet thankfully, leaping to her feet.

    Upstairs, Harriet pressed her burning face against the bedroom window. How could Chattie have said that! In front of Noel, too!

    Just as she finished feeding William, there was a knock on the door. To her amazement it was Noel.

    ‘I thought I’d leave the men to their port,’ she said. ‘What a gorgeous baby. May I hold him?’

    ‘He’s very tricky with strangers’ said Harriet dubiously.

    But Noel had already gathered William up in her arms, and had soon reduced him to fits of uncontrollable giggles, tickling him and giving him butterfly kisses with her long, long eyelashes.

    How beautiful she is, thought Harriet enviously.

    Suddenly Noel stopped tickling William and turned her huge eyes on Harriet. ‘Tell me truthfully - how is Cory? Did he mind my coming today?’

    Harriet was caught off guard.

    ‘Yes he did. Particularly with you bringing Mr Acland.’

    ‘Oh I know I shouldn’t have done that,’ said Noel. ‘But Cory’s so off-hand with me these days and, somehow, I felt I wanted to jolt him. I expect you think I’m wicked, but you’ve no idea how difficult it was being married ten years to a man who’s married to his typewriter. And yet, you know, I don’t really find other men lastingly attractive,’ Noel went on. ‘Every affair I’ve had has really been an attempt to shake Cory into loving me more.’

    ‘But he adores you!’ said Harriet amazed.

    ‘Maybe he does in his fashion - but that didn’t stop him switching off for hours on end when he was married to me, bashing out those bloody scripts. And he’s horribly arrogant. All the Erskine family are the same. You must admit he’s tricky to live with.’

    She looked at William who snuggled his head against her.

    ‘I wish they were all as easy to cope with as you,’ shesighed. ‘If only I could be certain I was doing the right thing, divorcing Cory and marrying Ronnie. What do you
think
I should do?’

    ‘I don’t know,’ muttered Harriet. She shouldn’t talk to me like this, she thought desperately. I don’t want to discuss Cory with her.

    But Noel hadn’t finished turning the screw. ‘Do you really think Cory does love me and nobody else?’

    Harriet thought for a minute. ‘Yes, I do. I think he’s being torn in pieces.’

    Noel put William down and, smirking slightly, wandered over to Harriet’s dressing table. For a minute she examined herself in the mirror, then her eyes lighted on Simon’s photograph.

    ‘My, he’s pretty. Good God, it’s Simon!’ She looked at William and, in a flash, put two and two together. ‘He’s your baby’s father?’

    Harriet nodded, unable to speak.

    ‘But I know him!’ said Noel. ‘Very well. He’s doing brilliantly. There’s even talk of him doing a film with me this summer. And he’s this baby’s father? Well! Does he know?’

    ‘I wrote to him,’ said Harriet.

    ‘Well, he can’t have got the letter. He adores children. He’s always saying he wants at least ten of his own.’ Harriet’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Tell me how he is;’ she said.

    Later, Kit went to sleep on the sofa. Noel and Ronnie took the children out to tea up the valley, Cory shut himself in his study, and Harriet was thankful to be left with the washing-up and her own tangled emotions.

    When Noel returned she went into Cory’s study, but after a few minutes came out looking like a thundercloud and went upstairs to change. She and Ronnie were going out to dinner.

    Eight-thirty found Ronnie pacing up and down the drawing-room. ‘I don’t know if Erskine had this trouble with her,’ he said to Kit and Harriet, ‘but Noel’s incapable of getting anywhere on time. Rather embarrassing. We’re dining with friends of my father’s. Shouldn’t keep that generation waiting.’

    Kit was eating potato crisps. ‘My advice,’ he said, ‘is to treat her as you would a nasty boy of ten.’

    Cory came in and poured himself a drink. He looked absolutely exhausted.

    ‘How’s the script going?’ asked Kit.

    Cory shrugged his shoulders.

    ‘So so. I spent today crossing out most of what I wrote yesterday. I suppose it’s good for the wrist.’

    ‘What’s good for the wrist?’ came a mocking voice, and Noel walked in.

    Harriet heard Cory’s sharp intake of breath. Ronnie choked over his cigar.

    ‘Christ!’ said Kit.

    Noel was wearing a transparent black dress. Only her hips were concealed by a thin layer of ostrich feathers. The rest of her body, including the magnificent breasts, gleamed pearly white through the thin, black material. Her blonde hair was piled up on top of her head, diamonds glittering round her throat, in her ears, on her wrists. She looked staggering.

    Kit was the first to recover.

    ‘You look just like a picture I saw outside Raymond’s Revue Bar the other day. I didn’t know you’d gone into cabaret,’ he said.

    Ronnie Acland looked dazed. ‘Very simple friends of my father’s we’re going to see, Noel, darling. Is it quite the thing, do you think?’ Noel just shrugged.

    Kit poured himself another drink. ‘I shouldn’t worry, Ronnie,’ he said. ‘That generation expect actresses to look unbelievably tarty.’

    Noel’s lips tightened. ‘Go and fetch my coat, would you, Ronnie?’

    She turned to Cory, who was still standing as if turned to stone.

    ‘What do you think of me, my darling?’ she said softly.

    Cory walked over and stood in front of her, looking her over very slowly. His hands were clenched, a muscle was leaping in his cheek. Only the ticking of the grandfatherclock broke the intolerable silence. Then he put out his hand. ‘Goodbye, Noel,’ he said.

    ‘You don’t really mean that,’ she said slowly, her yellow eyes blazing.

    ‘Yes, I do, I do, I do,’ he said wearily, as though he was trying to convince himself.

    ‘Come on, darling,’ said Ronnie Acland, bustling in and knocking over a small table in his haste to get something more substantial round Noel’s body. ‘We’re embarrassingly late as it is.’ the In the hall, Jonah’s face was putty-coloured, tears kept well back. Chattie, in a scarlet dressing-gown, had no such reserve. ‘Please don’t go, Mummy!’ cried, flinging her arms round Noel’s legs and bursting into teas.