‘Was it you that killed him?’ she asked in a breathless whisper. This was crazy, disgusting, and the worst part of all was Michael’s death. Over this.
Vi’s mouth dropped open. ‘Me?’ she almost laughed, but there were tears making tracks down her cheeks now, real tears of grief and remorse. ‘God, no. No! How can you think that?’
‘Violet?’ It was a man’s voice, quavering, uncertain.
They both turned towards the door; they’d been so deep in conversation that they hadn’t heard it open. Now Anthony stood there and as they watched he shuffled into the room and came over to where the two women were sitting.
The last time Ruby had seen him was in the autumn of the previous year when she and Michael had been here for a shooting party that ended in tragedy. In that short space of time, Anthony seemed to have aged even more. His white hair was too long, and stuck out in cowlicks. His face was a network of wrinkles, dried up as an old riverbed. His eyes were anxious. He was wearing an old food-stained waistcoat, red cord trousers, carpet slippers. He was leaning on a stick.
Vi stood up, quickly wiping away her tears as he approached, his eyes first on her and then on Ruby.
‘Darling, what is it?’ he asked, his eyes going back to his wife. ‘You look upset.’
Vi forced a smile. ‘It’s nothing. Just reminiscing. Sad old days, all that.’
Anthony nodded and his eyes went back to Ruby. Now they held some of their old asperity. ‘Can’t have my girl upset, you know,’ he told her.
Ruby felt the words clang around her brain like a bell. Somehow, she managed to summon a smile for him. ‘No. Of course not,’ she said.
Now he was slipping a trembling arm around Vi. Ruby saw the flinch away, saw this little tableau being acted out in front of her; ancient, mouldering Anthony, still protective of his wife – and Vi, repulsed by his touch, still feeling herself young, trying to prove that she could be the eternal Windmill Girl.
‘So long as we all understand that,’ he said, and there was an expression in his eyes that chilled Ruby to the marrow.
She swallowed. ‘We do,’ she said. ‘Of course we do.’
‘Good.’ Anthony lunged in, kissed his wife’s face.
Doesn’t he see how she strains away from him? wondered Ruby.
Probably he did. And he ignored it.
He gave Ruby a curt nod, then walked to the door, opened it, and was gone.
122
The instant Anthony was out of the room, Vi wiped her cheek where he had kissed her. Her eyes were fixed to the floor.
‘Were you very upset when Michael rejected you?’ asked Ruby into the stone-hard silence of the room.
Vi cast a despairing glance at Ruby’s face. She almost collapsed back into her chair, then buried her face in her hands. ‘Rubes…’ she muttered. ‘I’m so sorry, I never wanted this…’
‘Were you?’ hissed Ruby, cutting across Vi’s words.
‘I never wanted you to know, I wanted you to let it go. A gang thing – couldn’t you have just accepted that it was a gang thing, left it at that?’
Ruby surged to her feet and stood over Vi. She shrank back. Ruby looked mad enough to hit her.
‘Were you?’ she demanded.
Vi’s eyes were full of fear. Then she nodded. ‘Yes, I was upset. I was devastated. One night wasn’t enough. Not with him. But he was having none of it. He loved you, Ruby, not me, never me.’
Ruby started pacing up and down, her hand over her mouth. She felt like she was going to throw up, or punch Vi in the face. She came back to where Vi sat and looked down at her.
‘Anthony’s very protective of you,’ she said.
Vi nodded, sheet-white.
‘It was him, wasn’t it? It was him who killed Michael, because he’d rejected you, upset you. Anthony was used to your little affairs, all the young men, but this one was different. You cared about this one. It hurt you when Michael pushed you away. What happened, Vi? Did you cry to Anthony about it? Was that how it happened?’
‘Oh Jesus…’ sobbed Vi. ‘I’m so sorry…’
‘Was it Anthony?’ pressed Ruby. She leaned down, grabbed Vi’s arm and shook her, hard. ‘Was it?’
‘No, it-’ Wincing, Vi wrenched her arm free. Her eyes when they met Ruby’s were imploring. ‘Ruby, I’m sorry – you have to believe that. Anthony… yes, it’s true. I told Anthony about what happened. I know this must be hard for you to understand, but I often told him about the boys I went with. It amused him. He couldn’t… he hasn’t been able to do a damned thing in the bedroom for a long time. And thank God for that, I couldn’t stand him pawing over me. But he liked to hear about my “little adventures” as he called them.’
‘So you told him about Michael,’ said Ruby.
Vi nodded, swallowed. Wiped her eyes again.
‘I was distraught. Hurt. Furious. I told Anthony how Michael had pushed me away. And he so hates to see me upset.’ She looked up at Ruby. ‘He didn’t do it himself.’
‘So who did it?’ Ruby’s heart was pounding so hard it frightened her.
‘Oh, Rubes…’ groaned Vi.
Ruby grabbed a hank of that shiny red hair and pulled Vi’s head back. She brought her face down very close to this woman who had been her friend.
‘Who did it?’ she spat.
‘I don’t know. Anthony doesn’t, either.’
‘What?’
‘It’s true,’ said Vi, grimacing with pain. ‘One of the casual workers who used to be on the estate was told to meet someone in a pub in London, pay them to do it. Someone unknown. And that’s how it happened. So I don’t know who did it. There’s no way of knowing. But Anthony told me it had been “taken care of”. I knew what that meant. I was half pleased about it – isn’t that awful? Michael had hurt me so much. And I was horrified too. Horrified at what I’d done to you. And so, so sad. When I knew he was dead, I… well, all I could do was support you. Or try to.’
Ruby let go of Vi’s hair as the words sank in. They would never know who did it. But an over-indulgent semi-senile old man had as good as pulled the trigger. And Vi had been with her at Michael’s funeral, playing the good, caring friend. When all along she had been totally responsible for this disaster.
‘You complete and utter cow,’ said Ruby, and hit Vi very hard across the face.
Vi didn’t even cry out. Her head snapped sideways. Ruby, starting to sob, hit her again. And again. Then she stumbled back and sat down hard, unable to stand any longer. At last, at long last, she knew what had happened to the man she’d loved. But this was no tidy solution. A stranger had been paid to carry out Lord Albermarle’s wishes. That was all she knew. All she would ever know.
Ruby stared at Vi; her cheeks were reddened from the blows Ruby had inflicted on her. Her eyes were puffy with tears. She looked what she was: a sad middle-aged woman trying to cling to her youth. And in doing so, she’d wreaked devastation.
Ruby staggered to her feet, picked up the record sleeve, put it back in her bag.
‘I’d like to phone for a taxi,’ she said as steadily as she could.
‘Yes,’ said Vi, sniffing, trying to compose herself. ‘Rubes, I’m so-’
‘Save it,’ snapped Ruby. She went over to the phone and made the call to the taxi company who had brought her out here. Then she sat down and in silence she waited for the cab to arrive.
‘Rubes…’ said Vi pleadingly after a minute or two.
‘Shut up,’ said Ruby, and Vi did.
Within five minutes, the taxi drew up outside, and Ruby left.