Encounters

They were speaking in English now. ‘I told you not to ring me!’ Simon’s voice hissed down the line.

‘The deal is taking too long!’ the Italian cut in. ‘You have only twenty-four hours. Then I pull out.’

‘You can’t pull out, remember? Your currency is being held in my wife’s name,’ Simon snarled. ‘I fly to London tomorrow. The transaction will be completed on schedule.’

‘And if she asks any questions?’

‘She won’t. She never does.’ Simon’s mirthless laugh floated from the receiver in my hand. I could feel myself beginning to shake as I listened in disbelief, and for a long time after he had hung up and the line was empty I sat there, the phone still in my hand.

I could see the light on in his study as I tiptoed back across the lawn towards the french windows. I had no wish to meet Simon and I held my breath as I crept in. Then I realized he was not alone. Davina was with him and they were having a furious row. There was no question of them hearing me; they were making enough noise to wake the whole villa. The doors to his study were half open and I could see them both clearly. Simon was fully dressed still, but Davina was in a négligé and I could see from the stark paleness of her face that she had removed her make up. She looked as though she had just got out of bed and I wondered suddenly whether like me she had been listening on the extension.

I crept upstairs without them seeing me and peered out of the window on the landing. The car was still missing, and I realized bitterly that my husband’s midnight rendezvous had been not with my sister but with Sarah Cummins.

Simon was missing from the dining room when I plucked up courage to descend at about nine, but the others were there, all except Tim. Maggie smiled at me. ‘Is your divine husband at work already, Celia?’ she asked.

‘He’s been at it all night,’ I heard myself reply. I was watching Davina as she got up and went to the urn on the sideboard to pour herself a cup of black coffee.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘How dedicated,’ she said tartly.

‘But I don’t know where. He drove off with someone at about midnight,’ I went on quietly, ‘and the car’s not back yet.’

Maggie and Nigel were listening intently; Jocelyn was engrossed in the Financial Times and did not look up. I saw the coffee overflow into Davina’s saucer. Her face suddenly turned white.

‘The bitch!’ she said. ‘The bloody bitch!’ She put the cup down and flung her napkin on the floor.

There was a telephone in the hall – an ornate affair of gold and white – and she picked it up angrily. ‘Maggie, what is the number of that woman you brought here last night?’ she yelled through the door.

Maggie was smiling quietly. ‘I wrote it on the pad by the phone,’ she answered softly. ‘I figured someone from this house might want to call her.’

Davina was connected almost at once and I listened in disbelief. This was my husband they were fighting over. Sarah Cummins had arrived at the house, bent on revenge on Davina for stealing her man, as she saw it, and in order to do it she had decided to steal Tim from her. Wordlessly I stood up and went to stand in the hall behind her, listening. There was no question that Tim was there, but he was refusing to come to the phone. After five minutes’ vicious tirade Davina slammed down the phone and whirled round. She found herself face to face with me and for one second she had the grace to look taken aback. Then she smiled. ‘Don’t look like that, Celia. If you were any good at all with men you’d be able to keep him, wouldn’t you! You deserve to lose him!’ She ran to the staircase and vanished up it.

I was stunned. For a while I could not move, then I was conscious of the dining room door closing softly behind me, shielding me from the staring eyes within. An arm went round my shoulders. It was Nigel.

‘Come on up to my room. I’ve some brandy up there,’ he said quietly. I went without a murmur and sat on his bed sipping it until I had stopped shaking. His arms were round me, comforting, holding me close. I hardly noticed when he took the glass from my hand and set it down on the bedside table, then his lips were against mine and I felt myself lying back on the pillows. ‘I’ll take care of you, Celia. Forget him. He’s not worth it,’ he whispered, tickling my neck with a curl of my hair, wound round his finger. He looked down into my eyes with such concern and kindness that for a long time I lay still. I felt secure and safe. I was wanted. ‘Oh Nigel!’ My arms went round his neck and I was sobbing at last.

We lay like that for a long time and it was only the sunlight crawling across the carpet towards us until it threw a brilliant hot beam across the pillow which brought me to my senses. I pushed him away and sat up.

‘Nigel. What shall I do?’ I looked miserably down at the floor. I should have told him then what I had overheard on the phone, but I was afraid. Afraid for Davina but afraid of her too and I hated her at that moment almost as much as I hated Sarah Cummins. And myself.

Nigel did not try to touch me again. Getting up he poured another tot of brandy and put it into my hands. Then he walked across to the window and stared out. ‘Let me take care of you,’ he said. ‘There is no point in staying with a man who makes you so unhappy, Celia. You can fight for years, but he’s not going to change. Do you want to waste your whole life on him? He’s not worth it.’ He walked back and stood looking down at me. ‘You’re a hundred times more beautiful than your sister, Celia. You’re natural; you’re unspoilt. Don’t let them corrupt you. Let me take you back to London.’

On my way back to my bedroom I listened at Davina’s door. I could hear her sobbing and I raised my hand to knock. Then I lowered it again. There was nothing I could say to Davina. I had to think. I had to make up my mind what to do.

For a long time I lay on the bed in our bedroom staring at the ceiling. The house was completely silent around me. Nigel was going to drive down into Florence after lunch, he said, but I had declined his invitation to go with him. I wanted to be alone. His words were ringing in my ears. ‘Do you want to waste your whole life?’ Was that was I was doing?

The phone number was still on the pad by the phone in the hall. I sat down on the carved chair by the table and stared down at the scribbled figures for a long time before, hesitatingly, I picked up the receiver and dialled.

‘Pronto.’ The voice which answered was that of a stranger.

‘Can I speak to Tim?’ I said slowly, and groped for the Italian words.

There was a long silence, but he came in the end.

‘Tim!’ I tried to keep my voice calm. ‘Tim, I must speak to you.’

‘Can’t it wait till tonight? I’m working, Celia.’ He sounded exaggeratedly patient, like an adult humouring a fractious child. Something inside me seemed to break and I knew I was fighting; fighting for my marriage and my self respect.

‘No, it bloody well can’t wait,’ I hissed down the phone. ‘You get back here, Tim, and meet me at the cottage. I’ve got to see you now. I’ve found out something you’ve got to know about. Simon is involved in some shady currency deal and he’s using Davina. You’ve got to tell me what to do. She’s the one who is going to get into trouble. Now, get here.’ I hung up before he had time to reply.

There was a sound behind me and I turned to see Simon himself standing in the dining room doorway. His arms were folded and he was watching me. ‘I wonder what sort of trouble that could possibly be?’ he said quietly, with a small smile. ‘Perhaps you would come into my study a moment, Celia. It’s time you and I had a short talk I think.’

He ushered me into a carved rococo chair by the fireplace. Then, half leaning on his desk he turned to face me. ‘What exactly have you found out?’ he asked. His face was quite bland and un threatening, and yet suddenly I was afraid.

‘That you treat Davina like dirt,’ I replied. I had no intention of telling about my eavesdropping.

‘I see.’ He waited a moment, then he went to a cabinet beside the fireplace and produced a bottle. ‘Campari and soda?’ He put the glass in my hand. ‘What do you intend doing about it?’ A smile played across his lips for moment.

‘Do you know what happened this morning?’ I asked him suddenly, looking down at the glass in my hand without seeing it. ‘Your ex-girlfriend has gone off with my husband because she wanted to hurt Davina. Don’t you think that is rather funny?’ I heard myself laughing, a high nervous sound which bordered on hysteria. ‘Is that why you asked us here? So you could procure Tim for your wife and distract her from your illegal activities?’

I could have bitten my tongue out. His face had not altered but I saw the knuckles whiten on his glass. Slowly he raised it and drank.

‘So. I ask you again, what have you found out, sweet sister-in-law?’

‘Enough.’ I stared at him defiantly.

There was a long silence. He set down the glass and looked at me thoughtfully. ‘Do you love this husband of yours, Celia?’ he asked.

‘Of course I do.’ It was true. It was agonizingly true.

‘Then I suggest you keep very quiet about whatever it is that you think you have discovered, cognata mia, or I will break Timothy’s career. Do you understand me? I can do it, you know. I’ll see to it that he never gets another commission as long as he lives.’ There seemed to be no animosity in his voice, no violence, just calm certainty. And I believed him. I stared at him, my heart hammering uncertainly in my chest as I set my glass down without tasting the drink.

‘You bastard.’

He bowed in acknowledgement as though I had paid him a compliment.

When Tim returned Sarah was with him. The car crunched to a halt on the gravel outside the villa as I was descending the stairs from my room in search of a cup of coffee. I had had no lunch and my head was aching violently. I stopped dead as the ornate doors swung open and they appeared on the threshold. Sarah was laughing as the soft jacket thrown across her shoulders caught on the elaborate arrangement of flowers in the hall and a spray of stephanotis fell to the floor. Tim looked at me intently for a moment. The anger which had shadowed his face as he caught sight of me was replaced by concern. ‘Sweetheart, are you all right?’

I glanced at the dining room door which stood open. Beyond it Simon was still in his study. ‘Come to the cottage,’ I whispered. ‘I must see you alone.’

Sarah was watching me. I saw a slight sneer flicker across her lips. ‘Go on, Tim. I shall speak to Simon. I know exactly what this is all about. He tried it once with me.’ She kissed her fingertips and laid them quickly on his lips. Then she went through the door and closed it behind her.

In the cool of the cottage Tim held me for a long time before he would let me speak. Then slowly he pushed me away, holding me at arm’s length. ‘I was only sketching her, you know. It never crossed my mind she was trying to make Davina jealous.’

His eyes held mine steadily and I knew that I believed him.

‘And Davina? Did she have any reason to be jealous?’ I asked softly.

‘What do you think?’ He was holding me tightly again and his lips on mine were urgent and demanding. It was a long time before I remembered my excuse for bringing him back to the villa.