‘I want the building contracts for all the areas I’ve mentioned, and I know that with a word and a helpful nod from you I can bypass any other companies, and it goes without saying that you would benefit from the deal.’
Walter couldn’t eat another mouthful. He pushed his plate away and said Edward must understand that at this stage in his career he could not afford any scandal to be so much as whispered. ‘If I get you in on any other level than a totally viable...’
‘Bullshit, Walter, that is exactly why we’re having this little tete-a-tete, because that is precisely what I want and I know you can do it... Now then, you look as if you really need a drink.’
Gulping down the brandy, Walter began to sweat. He knew what would come next.
‘At this stage in your career you can’t afford any rumours about a young woman student who drowned in a boating accident on the Cam.’
Walter wiped his mouth with his napkin, sweating even more. ‘You wouldn’t bring that up?’ But he knew Edward would, and his heart sank. All the years of hard work, and he could see everything suddenly slipping out of his grasp. ‘I’m sorry, it’s out of the question.’
Edward rose abruptly from the table, tossed his napkin down. He towered over Walter like a giant. ‘Fine, so we know where we are. Thank you for coming. I’ll put in my bids for the contracts and simply keep my fingers crossed. Goodnight, Walter.’
Walter hurried after him on the pavement. Edward’s Rolls had already been brought round, and he was opening the door.
‘Can we talk about this, please?’
Edward opened the passenger door, Walter got in, and the car sped off.
They drove straight to the house in Notting Hill Gate, and Walter found himself out of his depth. The women, the flowing champagne... He made two more calls to his wife in Clapham. By the end of the evening he was thoroughly drunk, and the two blondes looked so like Marilyn Monroe that he was ecstatic.
‘Make sure he really enjoys himself, that clear? And this one’s on the house, anything he wants, just mark it down.’
Edward let himself into the manor. It was in darkness. He walked quietly into the dining hall where his cake and gifts had been left for him. He looked at his watch — it was after three. Without bothering to open the gifts, he took off his coat and crept up the stairs.
She was awake, he knew, and he slipped his arms around her. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s always “sorry”, isn’t it? You ever think how little I see you? And tonight of all nights couldn’t you have given me just one evening, just one?’
‘I’m sorry, but how was I supposed to know you’d arranged anything?’
‘It was supposed to be a surprise, that’s why. There’s no point in even talking to you — besides, you stink of stale cigars and booze. Have a nice time, did you? Go to your fucking club, did you?’
‘Don’t swear, I hate you swearing.’
‘Oh, well, fuck you and the horse you rode in on. What do you take me for? What am I supposed to do? Sit here and wait? Wait for when you have a spare half-hour you can give me...’
‘You can do anything you like. I don’t ask you to sit waiting, I never have. It’s your choice.’
‘Oh, fine, fine. Isn’t that what a wife’s supposed to do?’
‘Since when have you played that part?’
She turned over and thumped her pillow. He looked up at the ceiling, the drapes of the canopied bed. He sighed with tiredness, becoming irritated with her. ‘I love you, Harry, it’s just right now I’m in the middle of negotiations with South Africa. It’s a very big deal, and tonight I had a meeting with a man who can open doors there for me.’
Harriet hunched over, further away from him. He rolled over and curled himself around her back, pulling her close. It was a simple gesture, but one she had grown to love, the way he pressed his body against hers.
‘You’re not going to get round me, I hate you.’
‘No, you don’t.’
‘I fucking do, I’m going to run off with Dewint.’
Edward laughed and kissed her back, massaged her neck. Eventually she rolled over and looked into his face. He kissed her lightly on the nose, and then traced her cheek with his finger. ‘You know, maybe we should think about starting a family. You’re always talking about me breaking promises, but as I recall a certain young lady gave me a promise in a punt. Four sons — well, don’t you think we should start? Neither of us is getting any younger, so I’d settle for two.’
Her body arched, stiffened, and he was shocked when he saw her face change. He was so close, he could see the darkness in her eyes. ‘What is it? Harry?’
She was out of bed, pulling a robe around her naked body. ‘What do you think this is, a stud farm? Well, screw you, I’ll sleep in the spare room.’
Dewint heard the doors banging below. He thought to himself that they were at it again — but they always made it up. He woke, hours later, to the sound of muffled sobbing. He crept to his door — the sobbing was coming from her studio. Obviously they hadn’t made it up yet.
Edward breakfasted alone, and didn’t even go up to the studio. Dewint knocked and placed a tray outside the door, but it was still there at lunchtime.
Edward spent all morning in his office, mulling over his offer to Walter. It had all been too easy, and Edward waited for some kind of retaliation, but none came. He started on the arrangements for the workforce he would need in South Africa.
Two weeks later, knowing that Walter had returned to the Notting Hill Gate house five times, Edward received a call. Walter said simply that Edward’s company had won the contracts for South Africa.
A case of champagne, two dozen red roses and a cheque for two thousand pounds arrived on Walter’s doorstep. Edward knew that if the cheque was returned, his plans could go wrong, but he had done his homework. Walter’s three children were all at boarding school, he had a mortgage and an overdraft. The cheque was cashed. Edward received no thanks, but he knew he had Walter in his pocket. He donated a lot of money to Walter’s political campaign, and for that he did receive a note of thanks.
Edward was in good spirits when he arrived home. Harriet had been sleeping in the spare room, and he was making a special effort tonight to make it up to her. It had not occurred to him to try before, he had been too busy, and as usual the time he chose was the most convenient for himself. He had bought her a bouquet of red roses, bottles of perfume, and theatre tickets. He knew she loved the theatre, and he had tried to cover everything. He whistled as he took his coat off, and Dewint appeared from the kitchen, looking rather sheepish.
‘Excuse me, sah, but... would you mind if I talk to you very personally? I’m sorry if I am out of line, but I think something must be said.’
Edward beckoned him into the lounge, where a fire blazed in the grate. His whisky and soda stood in readiness.
‘Christ, you’re not thinking of leaving, are you? I mean, we can’t do without you.’
Dewint closed the doors. ‘It’s Mrs Barkley, sah. She’s really not very well, and she’s hardly touched a morsel for days. She won’t come out of the studio — I think, sah, she should see someone, she needs to see a doctor.’
Edward leapt up the stairs, four at a time, panic written all over his face. He pushed at the locked door, then knocked. He received no reply.
‘Harry? Harry, open the door... Harry, it’s Edward, come on, sweetheart, open the door... How long has she been in here?’
‘Quite a while, sah. I have the spare key.’
Edward unlocked the door. Dewint stood directly behind him, but he slammed the door in the concerned pixie face. Edward knew instantly something was terribly wrong. Harriet was hunched in a corner, plucking at the skin of her hands. Her eyes were vacant, and her face so pale it frightened him. ‘Harry? Harry, what’s all this about? Aren’t you well? Darling? Harry...?’