Encounters

‘I can see how easily she must have captured Simon; he wouldn’t have stood a chance.’

‘No.’ I didn’t know what else to say.

‘And now she’s captured your husband,’ she went on quietly. ‘Do you mind? Or does he always sleep with his models? Perhaps an artist’s wife gets used to it?’

‘No, you don’t get used to it,’ I had replied with more feeling than I intended and I hastened to cover up. ‘There’s no need. His interest is purely professional.’

‘Although there are exceptions.’ She was still watching me as she drained her glass. She refilled it from the table and I saw she was drinking neat vodka.

I gave what I hoped was a worldly smile. There are always exceptions to everything,’ I said, but I was aching with unhappiness as we both turned and saw Tim slowly leading Davina back towards the terrace. Their footsteps left a dark track on the grass where the dew was lying and she was leaning on him slightly, her arm through his.

They walked slowly up the steps towards us and I saw that she was talking quietly so that he had to lean towards her slightly to hear what she was saying. I felt a sudden surge of anger. I turned and, putting my glass down on the table, I walked towards them, conscious as I did so of Sarah’s eyes watching me. They stopped, still engrossed in one another and for a moment I don’t think either of them realized I was there. Then they were both looking at me and I was sure that I saw guilt on their faces. I forced myself to smile.

‘You look so cosy there is speculation on the terrace about when you’re moving in together,’ I said with a laugh which came out far too brittle. Davina released his arm abruptly, but I saw the quick anger on Tim’s face and I cursed myself for having said anything at all. But I couldn’t stop myself. ‘You’re in demand, darling,’ I said to him lightly. ‘Sarah is wondering if you will have time to sculpt her bust too.’ I knew she could hear every word I said. ‘I told her you come expensive.’

Davina had opened her mouth, but her retort was lost in the sound of the phone relayed out onto the terrace by an outside bell. There was dead silence, then Simon began slowly to walk towards the french windows. Behind him Jocelyn put down his glass and followed.

‘Well!’ Davina laughed abruptly. She walked across to the drinks table and began rather obviously to tidy the tray and screw the caps onto various bottles. ‘I suppose this means we’ll be late for dinner and Stephano will hand in his notice again. It happens about once a week I’m afraid.’

‘Business calls?’ It was Nigel’s voice from the shadows. Davina tensed. ‘I expect so. Business can’t be left at home even here.’

I recognized the strained note in her voice and instantly my hostility lessened. I thought I recognized her play for Tim as a plea; a cry for help. I wanted to reach out my hand, to hug her as I used to do when we were children and would comfort one another when things became too bad to be borne alone. But the eyes she turned on me were hard and rejecting and I took a step back as if she had slapped me.

Tim came forward. He smiled at me, his usual warm special smile as though nothing were wrong. ‘We can’t ask Davina to risk losing so great a treasure as Stephano; I suggest we go in and start to eat without Simon. I’ll take the blame if he gets violent.’ His smile took in everyone as he gestured to Davina to lead us into the candlelit dining room. There was no sign of Simon and Jocelyn. The double doors to Simon’s study were closed; when we had come down earlier they had stood open.

We had finished the Parma ham garnished with figs and had already begun on the veal escalopes before the doors opened and Simon and Jocelyn reappeared. They both looked angry as they took their places and I found myself unwillingly catching Nigel’s eye. He winked at me.

‘Bad news?’ he asked innocently.

Sarah laughed. She had already finished a second glass of Chianti. ‘It must be bad,’ she said, slurring her words slightly. ‘It takes more than a bear market to make our Simon flinch.’ She leaned forward across the table to put her hand on his. Her gold bracelet clanked heavily against the cut glass. ‘That’s right, isn’t it, honey bunch?’

I was watching Davina’s face. She had refused to look up as her husband came in, toying with her food with her fork, but now I saw her staring at Sarah in disbelief. She opened her mouth to say something but before she had the chance her husband spoke.

‘I’m afraid it looks as if I’ll have to nip back to London for a couple of days.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Awful bore. Sorry. But Davina will entertain you all.’

‘And you, Joss?’ Maggie was watching her husband across the table.

‘Not Jocelyn.’ Simon answered for him. ‘Jocelyn has done enough damage.’

There was a moment of complete silence. Then Sarah started to laugh.

I cornered Davina in her bathroom. It was an amazing place of ornate marble and gold illuminated now by cruel hidden lights. She looked haggard as she bathed her eyes. ‘What the hell is going on here?’ I perched on the edge of the bath. ‘What has happened to you, Davina?’

She looked up at me, her face wet. ‘Did you know that Sarah woman used to be Simon’s fancy piece?’

I nodded.

‘Maggie’s a cow. You know it was she who asked her here. I detest her.’ She had drunk more than usual and her face beneath the heavy streaked layer of make up was flushed.

Privately I agreed with her. ‘You haven’t answered me, Davina. What is going on here?’

She shrugged. ‘What do I care? Simon never tells me anything. I just have to sign things; and entertain his guests.’ She was peering into the mirror now, her shadowed eyes expressionless. ‘And you’d better mind your own business. Don’t tangle with Simon.’

‘How long has it been like this?’ My sympathy for her had returned and I wanted to touch her, to comfort her. But I was not prepared to risk another rejection. She stared down at the mosaic floor.

‘Ever since we married. I’ve wanted to see you often but I didn’t dare ask you. I didn’t want you to see what I had become. I could bear the thought of you and Tim as long as you were unhappy. It meant you were no better off than me. You see what a horrible person I am?’

There was a long pause. I closed my eyes wearily. ‘And when you saw we were happy, you thought you’d take him for yourself, is that it?’ I asked at last.

‘You’re my sister. I thought …’ She stopped in mid sentence. Then she turned to face me. ‘Oh Celia, you shouldn’t have come.’ And she began to cry.

Tim went into our room ahead of me. He didn’t turn on the light. As I closed the door he came up to me and put his arms around me in the dark.

‘Celia. What is it? What’s wrong?’

‘I talked to Davina. She thinks we ought to go. Can we, Tim? Please. Tomorrow. I know it’s a disappointment but you’ll get work from other people. You’re good. We don’t need to rely on Simon for any commissions.’

I felt him tense. He was stroking my hair gently. ‘Celia, you can go if you want to, darling. But I can’t. Don’t you see?’

The room was very dark. The maid had pulled the curtains across the windows when she came in to turn down the bed and it was stifling. I pulled away from him wordlessly and went to open them. Outside the balcony was black. The brilliant moonlight flooded past the villa and focused on the lawn. The fountain was still playing.

‘Do you love her?’ I asked softly. I leaned on the stone balustrade and looked down.

‘Who?’ I felt the anger in him, the resentment which always came when I questioned him and I knew I could not fight it this time. What was the point? Tim came out onto the balcony beside me. ‘Don’t run away, Celia. I’m beginning to think you must be paranoid or something. Who do you think I’m having an affair with this time?’

‘Davina.’ I could hardly bring myself to say the name.

‘Oh for God’s sake. It’s always the same, isn’t it? The moment I show interest in a woman you imagine I’ve fallen into bed with her. What’s the matter with you?’

What indeed? How could I explain to him how much I loved him; how much I feared to lose him; how much I had looked forward to these summer months in Italy as a second honeymoon? And now I saw the whole frail structure of my dream collapsing.

‘You really mean it, Tim? You would stay here and let me go home alone?’ I didn’t look at him. Below in the garden I saw a small glow in the darkness and I thought it must be a firefly. Then I realized it was a cigarette. There was someone walking slowly in the shadows of the trees.

‘I’ve come here to work, Celia. And it’s important that I do. More important than you know. Simon told me today that he is prepared to recommend me for a commission to do heads of all the members of a board he’s on. It means security and freedom to work without worrying for a while; without you having to go back to that job. I’m not going to blow it, Celia, even if it means we can’t be together. I don’t want you to go. It’s up to you.’

He turned and vanished back into the bedroom. A moment later I heard the door slam.

I could feel the hot tears burning my cheeks and I let them fell unchecked. The french doors below the balcony opened and someone stepped out onto the terrace. I knew it must be Tim. He would go to his improvised studio and work through the night, returning to fall into bed beside me at dawn. It had happened too often before after we had quarrelled. I did not call out to him. What was the point? He stepped out of the shadows of the terrace onto the grass and I saw him clearly walking towards the fountain. A figure detached itself from the shadows and joined him. A woman. The moonlight had washed the colour from her dress but I knew it was my sister. I watched as they stood talking then slowly they began to move, not towards the cottage but around the side of the house out of sight. Two minutes later I heard the sound of a car engine and the crunch of its tyres on the gravel of the long poplar-lined drive. Then there was silence.

I undressed and lay down on the bed, but my mind would not rest. I could not sleep and after a while I gave up trying. I rose and slipped on a thin sweater and some jeans.

The villa was in darkness save where moonlight slid through the windows on the staircase. I peered out. Our car had vanished from its place beneath the mulberry tree beside the wall. Behind me on the landing the clock chimed three. Tim had left the french windows open and I slipped out onto the terrace. I avoided the bright moonlight, following the dark shadows beneath the trees.

The cottage was in darkness, but the door was unlocked and I slipped in and at last allowed myself to turn on a light. The room was empty but for a large table and a couple of chairs. I recognized all the paraphernalia we had brought with us in the car. The plastic sacks of clay and plaster, the wire for armatures, the scalpels, the spatulas, the callipers and sketch books. Tim’s overalls hung on the back of the door and the room already had the cold oily smell of the clay. On the table I could see the outline of the head beneath its cloth and I moved over to uncover it.

He had made a lot of progress. Davina stared out at me, her lips enigmatically smiling, her eyes still a blind sightless sketch in the glistening clay. I stared at it for a long time, then I covered it again and moved across to the stairs. The cottage had only one bedroom and it was fully furnished. The bed had been slept in. Beside it the bathroom was also fully equipped with toiletries and cosmetics. I unscrewed a bottle of cologne and sniffed it. It was spicy and rather strong. I did not recognize it.

A bell pealed in the silence and I froze. Then I realized it was the telephone beside the bed next door. I tiptoed across and hesitated as it rang. Then cautiously I lifted the receiver. A voice was talking in fast Italian on the other end and I realized suddenly that it was an extension from the main house. I was about to replace it when a second voice cut in. It was Simon and he sounded once more very angry. Holding my breath I sat gingerly on the bed and listened.