Swimming Pool Sunday

  ‘I hope so, Cassian,’ said Desmond. He gave Cassian a quizzical look. ‘I was talking about it with Karl this morning, and we both had to agree, it’s not the strongest case in the world. You’ll be doing very well to get half a million in damages. Very well indeed.’ He smiled kindly at Cassian, who felt a slight splinter of alarm in the base of his spine.

  ‘I’m quite confident,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve taken on board the points you made, and they’ll be dealt with.’

  ‘And you’re quite sure the parents will go through with it?’ Desmond put down his briefcase and felt in his pocket for his car keys. ‘Both Karl and I felt that they were … a little unprepared; that they might be reluctant to testify fully and convincingly on the damage done to their daughter …’ He raised his eyebrows.

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ replied Cassian quickly. ‘They just need a bit of time to get into it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Desmond. ‘Time.’ He narrowed his eyes slightly. ‘Things seem to have moved extraordinarily rapidly in this case, Cassian. You didn’t put any pressure on the Kembers, did you? You didn’t hurry them at all?’

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Cassian at once. ‘Of course not. They were just anxious to get things going. For their daughter’s sake,’ he added.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Desmond, ‘I’m glad to hear it. Well, I’ll be following events with interest, and I’ll be very impressed if we succeed.’ He walked towards his car, then turned back. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware,’ he said, ‘this case could provide some good publicity for us. Acting successfully for the granddaughter of Lord Page can’t do us any harm.’ He opened his car door. ‘Some time,’ he added, ‘when you’re in London, perhaps we could have dinner together at my club. Perhaps we could even ask Lord Page to come along.’ He smiled at Cassian. ‘So long, Cassian.’

  As Cassian watched Desmond driving off smoothly, he felt a confusing mixture of emotions. His initial sensation of triumphant exhilaration slowly dwindled into a curious down-hearted feeling. Did Desmond and Karl really think his case was weak? A sudden unwelcome vision popped into Cassian’s mind, of Desmond and Karl, gently laughing together at him. He scowled. He’d show them. He’d fucking well win this case; that would wipe the patronizing smile off Desmond’s face.

  Suddenly there was a noise behind him, and Cassian’s secretary, Elaine, appeared at the top of the steps, carrying her handbag.

  ‘I thought I’d go for lunch,’ she said. ‘If that’s OK.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Cassian absently.

  ‘Has he gone, then?’ said Elaine. ‘That guy from London?’

  ‘Yes, he has,’ said Cassian. Elaine looked around and lowered her voice.

  ‘Has he offered you a flashy job in London?’ she said. ‘That’s what everyone’s saying.’ She lowered her voice further. ‘They’re all dead impressed.’

  At her words, Cassian felt an expanding sensation of pride. The heavy feeling around his heart released itself and vanished. It was paranoid, he told himself, to imagine that Desmond’s final smile had been anything but encouraging.

  ‘Well … you never know,’ he said impressively. ‘I’m afraid I can’t really talk about it.’

  ‘Gosh,’ said Elaine. She shifted her handbag strap on her shoulder and looked hopefully at Cassian for further scraps of information. When it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything more, she sighed. ‘Oh well,’ she said. ‘Shall I get you a sandwich while I’m out?’

  ‘No thanks,’ said Cassian. He wondered briefly whether to say, Lunch is for wimps, then decided against it. ‘I think today I’ll have lunch with Louise,’ he said instead.

  Barnaby didn’t know what to do with himself. When Sylvia Seddon-Wilson had driven off, he stood quite still in the middle of the road, oblivious of passing cars, incapable of moving. His face was blank and his mouth was dry and a heavy pain had anchored itself in his stomach. An old woman passed by with her little dog, and he flinched, unable to meet her eye, or even move out of the way. He felt numb with shock; numb to the tiny flames of panic darting round the edges of his frozen mind; numb even to the incipient stirrings of a heavy looming guilt.

  He had to find out more, he suddenly said to himself. He had to find out what had happened. He had to find out how Hugh was. His friend, Hugh, his old friend. The thought made him want to sit down on the pavement and bury his face in his hands, but instead, Barnaby took a deep desperate breath, and found himself beginning to walk. Without thinking, his steps began to take him in the direction of the Delaneys’ house. He had to find out how Hugh was, he thought desperately. He had to find out …

  And then, like a slap, he remembered. He stopped still again. What was he thinking of, going to the Delaneys’ house? What was he thinking of? With a shudder he imagined Meredith shrieking at him, as she had at Louise. He imagined Ursula’s distraught face. Maybe even Hugh himself, discharged from hospital. He would look up, with an ill grey face … Maybe the sight of Barnaby would bring on another attack …

  ‘Oh God,’ said Barnaby aloud, in a hoarse desperate voice. He looked around him at the empty street, then took a few uncertain steps back towards the shop. But as he thought of the eager curious face of Mrs Potter; the gossip; the voices dying down as he entered, his steps slowed down and once more he stopped still. He felt marooned and alone and suddenly desperate to see a friendly face.

  And then, suddenly, it came to him. Without pausing, he retraced his steps and walked towards the village shop. He passed it without going in, took the next turning on the right, and went down the hill, towards the church.

  Frances Mold and Daisy had just finished their usual morning cup of tea when the figure of Barnaby appeared on the vicarage path. Frances waved at him cheerily through the drawing-room window and mouthed, ‘The door’s open!’ Then she turned back to Daisy.

  ‘You know Barnaby, don’t you, Daisy?’

  ‘Sort of,’ said Daisy shyly. ‘I mean, I know who he is, but I’ve never spoken to him. I’ve never bumped into him or anything.’

  ‘No,’ said Frances thoughtfully, ‘I don’t suppose you have. None of us have seen much of the Kembers this summer. Understandably.’

  There was a sound from the door and Barnaby appeared, pale-faced and breathing heavily. When he saw Daisy he gave a visible start.

  ‘Oh,’ he said in a gruff voice. ‘Hello.’ Daisy’s eyes slid anxiously towards Frances, and she put her teacup down with a hand which trembled slightly.

  ‘Hello,’ she said breathlessly, ‘I’m Daisy.’ She smiled nervously at Barnaby, who made a visible unsuccessful attempt to smile back.

  ‘Well,’ said Daisy hurriedly, ‘I think I’ll go now, shall I?’ She scrabbled under her chair for her bag, knocking against a little side-table with her foot as she did so.

  ‘Daisy,’ said Frances, ‘there’s no hurry. Why don’t you have another cup of tea?’

  Daisy looked up, her face red from exertion. She eyed Barnaby’s distraught face and swallowed.

  ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I’ve really got to go. Thank you for the lovely tea and everything.’ She paused by the door. ‘And you’ll come round and listen to the Brahms, before I perform it?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Frances warmly. ‘Bye, Daisy. It was lovely to see you.’

  When Daisy had disappeared up the path, Frances turned to Barnaby.

  ‘You frightened her away,’ she said in gently reproachful tones. Barnaby’s gaze didn’t move.

  ‘I’ve just heard about Hugh,’ he said. Frances’s expression changed.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said soberly. ‘Meredith phoned me this morning.’ She looked up in sudden alarm. ‘Nothing’s happened since then, has it?’

  ‘He had a heart attack,’ said Barnaby hoarsely. ‘He could have died.’ Frances sighed.

  ‘Sit down, Barnaby,’ she said, ‘let me pour you some tea.’ She swirled the pot round and winced as she poured out a dark-brown stream of liquid. ‘It’s very strong,’ she said, ‘but then, perhaps that’s just w
hat you need.’ She waited until he had begun to drink before she spoke again.

  ‘As I understand it,’ she said, ‘Hugh’s attack was only very small. Of course it was frightening for them all, but I think he’s on the mend now. Meredith was actually sounding quite cheerful this morning.’ She looked at Barnaby. ‘I think he was very lucky,’ she said gently.

  ‘I saw him a few days ago,’ said Barnaby abruptly. ‘In the street. He looked terrible, but I had no idea.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone had,’ said Frances.

  ‘He looked grey and old and sort of crushed,’ said Barnaby. ‘And … and he wouldn’t meet my eye. He moved away across the street …’ He broke off.

  ‘Well now,’ said Frances comfortingly. ‘I wouldn’t …’

  ‘We used to be friends,’ interrupted Barnaby bleakly. ‘We used to go drinking together. We used to do each other favours.’ He took a sip of the dark-brown tea. ‘What sort of favour have I done for him now?’ Barnaby’s huge dark eyes looked up at Frances. ‘What have I done to him?’ he whispered. There was a pause. Frances looked at Barnaby with gentle compassion.

  ‘Don’t torture yourself, Barnaby,’ she said. ‘Remember, you’ve only been doing what you thought was right.’

  ‘Right?’ said Barnaby fiercely. ‘Is it right to put your friend in hospital? To nearly kill him?’ Frances looked at Barnaby carefully.

  ‘Is that what you think you’ve done?’ she said.

  ‘Yes! Oh, I don’t know.’ Barnaby pushed a hand through his rumpled hair. ‘I suppose it could have been anything, couldn’t it? I mean, lots of people Hugh’s age have heart attacks.’

  ‘Certainly they do,’ agreed Frances. Barnaby stared at her, unconvinced.

  ‘We used to be such good friends,’ he said heavily.

  ‘I know,’ said Frances. ‘Perhaps you will be again.’ Barnaby shook his head.

  ‘It’s too late for that,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Frances, ‘maybe not.’

  There was a pause. Frances took a sip of tea and waited.

  ‘All summer’, said Barnaby suddenly, ‘my whole life has been Katie, and her treatment, and the case. That’s all I’ve thought about. As though nothing else matters.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now,’ said Barnaby slowly, ‘now I’m starting to remember that other people exist, too.’

  Louise and Katie had spent an enjoyable morning in Katie’s old classroom, with her old teacher, Mrs Tully, and a woman called Jennifer Douglas, who was in charge of reintroducing Forest Lodge children back into normal school life.

  ‘I think’, she had said at the end of the session, ‘that Katie can start back straight away, if she likes. Mornings only, to begin with, and lots of rest when she needs it, but we want her to feel part of normal school life from the word go.’ She looked at Mrs Tully. ‘Staying down a year,’ she said, ‘being in a class with younger children; that won’t make her feel stigmatized?’ Mrs Tully frowned.

  ‘I think it’s unlikely,’ she said. ‘I’ll be on the lookout for any kind of teasing, of course, but, you know, she won’t be the first child to stay down a year, and on the whole the children here are very kind and accepting. They know Katie had an accident; they know she may need some extra help.’ She smiled at Louise. ‘They’re all very fond of Katie. We all are.’

  A sound from outside attracted their attention. Katie, who had been sent out to play, was joyfully screaming, as she careered around the playground on a plastic tricycle from the kindergarten. Louise gave a small grimace and looked at Mrs Tully.

  ‘She isn’t the same Katie,’ she said bluntly. ‘You don’t quite realize … She may cause havoc to begin with.’

  ‘Well, we’re used to havoc,’ said Mrs Tully cheerfully. She looked at Jennifer Douglas.’ As long as she gets lots of rest …’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jennifer Douglas. ‘The more tired she gets, the more attention-seeking she’ll be. I like your idea of a little bed permanently set up for her.’ She sighed. ‘Not all schools are quite so accommodating.’ She had looked at Louise. ‘You know, you’re very lucky.’

  Now, eating lunch in the kitchen with Cassian and the girls, watching Katie carefully slicing her half apple into smaller pieces, watching Cassian clowning with Amelia and making her giggle, those words returned to Louise. She leaned back in her chair and felt a warm glowing sensation of relaxation spread through her body, until she wanted to wriggle with pleasure. Happiness, she supposed it was.

  Cassian looked up at her and smiled.

  ‘Desmond was very pleased with the case,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Louise.

  She smiled brightly back at Cassian, but underneath she could feel a shadow falling gently over her glow. Somewhere, somehow, she had lost enthusiasm for the case; for talking about it, or thinking about it, or even reminding herself of its existence. After Barnaby had left the night before, she had sat for a while, listening to the chat of the three lawyers over her head, telling herself firmly that she had overreacted, that she was irrational, that it would all be worth it in the end. But whatever she told herself, she could not get rid of a dismaying vision in her mind – a vision of herself having to declare in court, in public, that Katie was … what was the phrase? A walking disaster. Her darling little daughter a disaster. A trial to live with. A nightmare. How could she do it? How would she explain herself? – to Katie, to Amelia, to all their friends, to Mrs Tully? No point in thinking they wouldn’t find out. No point thinking Katie wouldn’t catch on to what was happening. No point thinking it wouldn’t affect her morale; perhaps even her recovery. But there was nothing she could do about it now. It was too late to back out; she was powerless. Teams of important people were working on the case; everyone but her was committed to it. Everyone but her seemed to think that to go to court was an obvious rational course of events. And, of course, there was always the money at the end …

  ‘I think we’re really on course for victory,’ continued Cassian. ‘And I have to tell you, the boys at the office are pretty impressed. If we’re successful, it could really help my career.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ said Louise again. She pictured Cassian’s career in her mind: a long, abstract, glittering thing, disappearing into the distance – and now, it seemed, dependent on the case succeeding. The case was no longer, she realized wearily, just a court case; somehow it had become the foundation for Cassian’s career, for their own relationship, for their future together. Her entire life seemed to be tied up in it; there was no way of escape.

  ‘If things go well, it could mean a move to London,’ said Cassian. He grinned at Katie. ‘How would you like to live in London?’

  ‘I’ve been to London,’ said Amelia self-importantly. ‘I saw Big Ben.’

  ‘London?’ said Louise. She gave a short little laugh. ‘Why London? I thought you were based in Linningford.’ Cassian grinned.

  ‘Everyone has at least one stint in the provinces; to test their loyalty. But, I mean, I’m hardly going to stay here for ever, am I?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Louise. ‘No. I suppose not.’ Cassian’s eyes met hers.

  ‘London,’ he said seductively. ‘Shops and galleries and theatres and interesting people all around …’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Louise. She briskly began to gather the plates together, as though to change the subject. Cassian regarded her for a few seconds, then looked at his watch.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said regretfully. He looked at Katie. ‘Although I hate to leave my favourite client.’

  ‘See you this evening?’ said Louise.

  ‘Of course,’ said Cassian. ‘We can talk some more then,’ He gave her a kiss, then blew kisses to each of the girls. They giggled and blew kisses back, more and more, until Katie blew one so energetically that she knocked over her glass of water, and Cassian raised his eyebrows comically and left.

  When he had gone Louise sent the children out into the garden and started to clear up. But after dispiritedly
mopping up the water on the floor, her energy seemed to evaporate, and for a while she simply stood still, staring out of the window, allowing her thoughts to patter lightly in and out of her head.

  What she really wanted, she suddenly thought, was a holiday. She wanted a holiday. She wanted to lie down on a hot sandy beach and close her eyes, and listen to the sounds of people laughing and talking … and even swimming.

  She paused in her thoughts. Swimming. Could she really consider going swimming? To test herself, she deliberately imagined Katie and Amelia paddling in the shallows, splashing each other, even swimming further out to sea. She conjured up image after image, waiting for the wave of terrible panic to overwhelm her, but it didn’t come; she was safe.

  ‘Swimming,’ she said out loud. ‘We could go swimming. We could all go swimming.’

  ‘Mummy!’ A shrill voice from outside interrupted her thoughts. It was Amelia. ‘Can we have a chair for French skipping?’

  ‘No,’ Louise called back cheerfully. She put down the mop and walked straight past the pile of washing-up waiting to be done. ‘You can’t have a chair, but you can have me instead.’

  As Barnaby came out of the vicarage he bumped into Sylvia Seddon-Wilson.

  ‘Barnaby!’ she exclaimed. ‘I knew there was something I’d meant to ask you. It’s my charity barbecue next week. In aid of Save the Children. Will you come?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Barnaby discouragingly, ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Oh, go on,’ wheedled Sylvia. ‘You need a nice evening out. It’s only five pounds each, and that includes all the food, plus entertainment.’

  ‘What’s the entertainment?’ asked Barnaby, in spite of himself. Sylvia’s brow wrinkled.

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ she said, ‘but it’ll be jolly good, whatever it is.’ She paused. ‘I don’t expect any of the Delaneys to come,’ she added brightly. ‘What with Hugh in hospital and everything, so there’s no need to worry about that.’

  ‘I wasn’t worried about that,’ retorted Barnaby gruffly. He looked down, avoiding Sylvia’s piercing gaze.