Standing up, he walked over to Annette, reached down, took her hands in his, and pulled her to her feet. Looking into her face, smiling at her, he said quietly, “You’re right. I am wrong. I promise you I won’t interfere. After all, Laurie’s thirty-six and Malcolm’s forty-two, and they have to live their own lives.”
Annette nodded. “I’m glad you’ve come around to my way of thinking.”
“I was taken by surprise, it was the shock, you know,” Marius said.
“I understand. But I think we’d better hurry, if we’re going to get to Mark’s Club on time. We don’t want to be late.”
“Oh, it’s been changed,” Marius said, letting go of her hands. “Malcolm decided Harry’s Bar would be a better place to have a celebration. It’s also an easy place to take a wheelchair, like Mark’s.”
“In that case, I think I’ll wear something different.” Annette walked over to the closet, looked inside, decided on a black dress.
“And I’d better go and change my suit.” Marius hurried off without another word.
Annette sat perfectly still for a few seconds, staring at herself in the mirror on the dressing table. Her face was calm, serene actually, and it belied her inner turmoil. She had been seething during the discussion with Marius, infuriated by his obdurate attitude. It was only through sheer willpower that she had been able to speak to him with civility when he had finally capitulated.
She sighed as she picked up the cosmetic brush, dipped it in powder, and stroked it over her face. She had instinctively known he would object to this union between Laurie and Malcolm, but she had not bargained for his anger and vehemence. Fortunately, she had won. Not only the battle but the war. Her threat had been powerful enough to stop him in his tracks, make him retreat, and then surrender.
They both understood that she was unable to leave him, leave the marriage, but now he understood she could and would change the emotional content of it. She had made it perfectly clear she would lead her own life without him whilst still remaining his wife—in name only. And she had meant what she said.
Annette was fully aware that he would never be able to face that, let alone accept it. He needed her on every emotional level.
Her hands were steady as she swept her blond hair into a chignon and fastened it in place with pins. After applying lipstick and spraying herself with perfume, she rose, took off her silk robe, and walked over to the mirrored clothes closets on the other side of the dressing room.
She suddenly knew exactly what she was going to wear. Having selected a black dress a short while before, she put it away, took out a cream wool dress with a V neckline and long sleeves, partnered with a matching jacket. Once she was dressed, she selected a triple-strand necklace of pearls and pearl earrings, then stepped into a pair of black patent high-heeled shoes.
She was putting a few things in a black patent bag when Marius appeared in her dressing room. He was smiling and his expression was pleasant. Having given in to her, he had now adopted a demeanor of geniality and exuded warmth. She knew he had fully accepted the situation with Laurie and Malcolm and that there would be no further objections from him. Ever again.
Annette made only one reference to her sister when they were in the taxi on the way to the restaurant. Glancing at Marius, touching his arm lightly, she said in a quiet voice, “You know, Marius, you and I suffer from the same thing.”
“And what’s that?” he asked, returning her gaze, a smile playing around his mouth again; he was relieved that she was sounding like her normal self and not a warrior on the warpath.
“We’re overexposed to Laurie, and because of that we get accustomed to her, and we forget how truly beautiful she is. You’ll see, tonight every man in the restaurant will be staring at her, ogling her.”
“Yes, what you say is true,” he concurred. Marius meant what he said; he was not trying to placate or please her, and he accepted that there was an element of truth in her words.
There was more traffic than usual tonight; Annette knew they would be late after all, and so she was relieved when the taxi finally pulled up outside Harry’s Bar in South Audley Street. She got out and went ahead of Marius, pushing open the door and hurrying inside.
As soon as he saw her, the maître d’ came forward to greet her, and they stood talking for a moment as she waited for Marius. When the maître d’ turned away from her for a split second to speak to a waiter, she glanced around, looking for Laurie and Malcolm. She spotted them immediately, and lifted her hand, gave a small wave.
Then she saw him.
Jack Chalmers.
He was sitting with two other men on the left side of the room, diagonally across from Malcolm’s table. Her stomach lurched. She wondered how on earth she would get through the evening.
Twenty-three
The radiance reflected on Laurie’s face, the happiness in her eyes, touched Annette’s heart. She sat down at the table next to her sister, reached out, and clasped her hand in hers. “I’m so glad for you, Laurie darling, and you, too, Malcolm. This is the most wonderful news.”
Annette was sincere, meant every word. Her sister’s well-being and security were the most important things in her life. Already she was feeling a sense of ease about Laurie’s future. She forever worried about that, about Laurie being alone if anything happened to her. Now that worry was erased. With Malcolm in the picture, Laurie’s future looked very bright. He was such an old friend; she trusted him implicitly, and she knew that he was reliable and responsible, as well as a kind and caring man.
Malcolm leaned across the table, and, as if zeroing in on her thoughts, he said, “I love Laurie very much, Annette, and you can trust me to look after her. She’ll always come first with me, you know.”
“I do know that, and I’d like to say welcome to the family, Malcolm.” Shifting her gaze to Laurie, she smiled and said, “Come on then, let me see the ring.”
Laurie put out her left hand to show her sister Malcolm’s engagement ring. It was a square-cut emerald surrounded by diamonds. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she murmured, looking at the ring and then at Annette.
“Yes, it really is,” Annette agreed. “Gorgeous.”
“Only emeralds from now on, you know, to match the color of her eyes,” Malcolm announced.
“Aren’t you the romantic one!” Annette exclaimed, and then looked up at Marius as he arrived at the table.
“Sorry. Someone stopped me at the bar,” he explained. He sat down and immediately said, “Congratulations, you two!” Leaning closer to Malcolm and Laurie, he went on, “And it’s thrilling news about the baby. I feel as if I’m about to become a grandfather.”
“Now, now, you’re not that old,” Annette protested. “More like an uncle, don’t you think?”
He laughed. “Uncle Marius. Yes, jolly good. I like the sound of that. And I must be godfather, you know. I’ll be hurt if you choose anyone else but me.” He stared at Malcolm.
“Godfather it is,” Malcolm replied, and motioned to a waiter, who came over and poured champagne. Laurie asked for only a drop, just enough for the toast.
Instantly, the champagne was sipped, toasts were made, and for the first ten minutes there was much hilarity at the table. The activity kept Annette totally involved and so she was able to avoid looking across the room at Jack. She was acutely conscious of his presence, though, and felt his eyes on her from time to time, yet managed to stay cool, calm inside.
What genuinely pleased her was that Marius was gazing at Laurie with admiration, as if he were suddenly seeing her in a new and different light. Her sister looked especially beautiful tonight. She was wearing a silk dress that was an unusual moss-green color with a slight hint of iridescence in the weave of the fabric, and it emphasized her green eyes and was perfect with her porcelain skin and shimmering red-gold hair. Glancing surreptitiously at Marius, Annette knew that he was suddenly captivated by Laurie’s stunning beauty, for the first time in years.
Marius turned to Annette, g
ave her a pointed look, then said, “Laurie darling, Annette and I are going to give you a wonderful wedding, wherever you want to have it, and once you have picked a date, you and Annette must start planning it. At once.”
“Thank you, Marius, and you, too, Annette,” Laurie responded, smiling at them. She was vastly relieved that Marius appeared to be happy about her engagement to his favorite, had obviously given them his stamp of approval. She had expected trouble, a big eruption on his part, but she had been wrong after all. Her glowing smile and sparking eyes reflected her happiness.
Malcolm said, “Thanks, both of you, and that’s splendid of you, so very generous. We were thinking of the summer, obviously, perhaps late June, or July.” He grinned. “There’s the baby to consider. We wouldn’t want to leave it much later than that.”
Laughing softly, Laurie confided, “I wouldn’t like to look too pregnant, you know.”
“Of course not, darling. And you won’t,” Annette asserted. “And I think you should get married in July, when the weather’s bound to be better. But you’ll have to decide on a venue quickly, to make sure it’s available. Listen all of you, I want you to know that Jack Chalmers is sitting at the other side of the restaurant. I don’t think he’ll intrude on us, by coming over to say hello. By now I’m sure the entire restaurant knows we’re having some kind of family celebration, but I just want you to be aware of his presence.”
“He’s a nice chap,” Malcolm volunteered. “Lots of easy charm and always extremely pleasant.”
Laurie was the only one who swiftly sneaked a look, and she said sotto voce, “I didn’t believe you, Malcolm, when you said he was like the young Bill Holden, but you’re right, he is.”
“He’s much younger than I expected,” Marius added, after a quick glance across the room. “But that doesn’t matter. He’s a brilliant journalist and I’m glad I picked him. He’ll do an excellent piece on you, Annette, I’m sure. Anyway, how have the interviews been going? You haven’t said very much about them.”
“They’ve been fine.”
“Not grilling you too much, then?”
“No, Marius, no grilling at all. You were right about that,” Annette answered, and changed the subject. She said to Laurie, “About the various venues . . . have you any idea about where you would like to be married? And what about you, Malcolm, what’s your preference?”
It was Laurie who answered. “We’ve talked about a number of places, haven’t we, darling?” She looked at Malcolm and added, “But I think we’ve . . . well, sort of changed our minds about a country wedding.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Malcolm murmured. “And we must discuss the venues with you both at length. But first, I do think we ought to order dinner. Otherwise we’ll be here all night.”
Marius was sound asleep.
She could hear him breathing deeply, lost to the world. He had closed his eyes the moment his head had touched the pillow, had fallen into oblivion.
She wasn’t surprised. He’d had quite a lot to drink over dinner at Harry’s Bar . . . champagne, white wine, a good claret, followed by a large Napoleon brandy. And yet he hadn’t been drunk, or at least he hadn’t appeared to be inebriated. But then that was Marius. He could hold his liquor, never showed any signs of being done in by it, always in control of himself. And frequently of others.
She had no complaints about him tonight. He’d behaved perfectly with Laurie and Malcolm, had enthusiastically cheered them on, listening to the pros and cons of the various venues for weddings available in various parts of the country. He had discussed the number of guests they should have, menus, wines, flowers, and had even talked about Laurie’s wedding gown. And finally he had advised them where to spend their honeymoon. He couldn’t be faulted. Exemplary behavior.
She hadn’t expected him to be otherwise. Once he had agreed to something, he stuck to it. Also, he knew her well enough to truly understand that if he in any way interfered with this marriage, she would fulfill her threat. Not to leave him; of course she couldn’t leave him. He knew too much about her. But she could cut him off emotionally. And that he wouldn’t be able to stand, or so she believed anyway.
Annette stared up at the ceiling, her eyes wide open in the dark. She wished she could fall asleep. But her mind churned with so many thoughts, almost all of them troubled, turbulent.
She wondered why he was really going to Barcelona again. When he had announced it, suddenly over dinner, explaining that he was leaving on Saturday for Spain, she had been taken aback, surprised that he had not brought it up before.
But then that was Marius, wasn’t it? Making decisions at the last minute and going full steam ahead without ever consulting her. He just did what he wanted to do, blithely unaware of anyone else.
Malcolm had asked him if he was going to do research for his book on Picasso, and he had said he was. A week, he had then said to her, smiling, touching her arm lightly. Try and get some sun, she had murmured back to him, and wondered for the umpteenth time if there were other women in his life.
She had no idea about that. Probably not, but one never knew. He was a handsome man, full of charm and sophistication, and he had a special kind of elegance. Women found him attractive, of that she was aware. She also realized that if he did stray from time to time, and was unfaithful, she would never know. He would make certain of that. Because he did not want to give her any reason to leave him . . . as if he would ever let her.
What a fool she had been all those years ago. She herself had handed him the chain with which he bound her to him. She had confessed to him, told him what she had done, and he had taken control of her at once. And had never let go.
Sliding out of bed, Annette left the bedroom and went down the corridor to her office. Sitting down at her desk, she tried to do some work, but her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking of Jack Chalmers.
She had been conscious of him all evening, but had eventually begun to relax after the first hour. Harry’s Bar was not such a big room, and narrow, and there were waiters milling around constantly, serving food and pouring wines.
Most of the time her view of him sitting against the opposite wall was obstructed. Nonetheless, she could not forget he was there. From time to time he caught her eye, half smiled, looked away, or turned to talk to the two men he was with. And when the three of them finally left, he had simply given her a half wave and slipped out of the dining room.
She had been relieved about this, but now, unexpectedly, she wondered why he had left without coming over to their table. Obviously he hadn’t wanted to intrude, disturb them whilst they were eating. Or was it another reason? Would he have been uncomfortable? Nervous, perhaps? Did he feel the same way she did? No, that was not possible. He was, after all, much younger than her. . . .
Annette let these thoughts slide away, a feeling of tiredness enveloping her. Turning out the desk lamp, she got up, went over to the sofa in the alcove, and lay down, pulling the cashmere throw over her body. Closing her eyes, she tried to sort out the myriad thoughts filling her head.
She fell into a deep sleep.
The past became reality. Dreams of violence dominated. It was the same violence that had been her constant companion in that cold, dark house built in the shadow of the implacable windswept moors. . . .
“My name is Marie Antoinette and I am Queen of France. Won’t you come and dance?”
“I am Empress Josephine, favorite of the French, and there’s my husband Napoleon, sitting on the bench. Emperor of France. Won’t you come and dance, dance, dance?”
Their tender, lilting voices echoed on the cool air, and their small shoes tapped against the bare wood floor as they danced in circles around the room, holding hands, laughter on their pretty faces. They were happy for a few moments, their hardship, fear, and loneliness forgotten, if only for a short time.
They did not see him lingering in the doorway, were not aware of his terrifying presence until he came rushing in, swooping up on Marie Antoinette and drag
ging her screaming out of the room. She cried out to Josephine, “Don’t follow me! Stay there! Stay there!”
“She’d better stay there. Or I’ll kill her,” he hissed, and went on dragging her . . . across the hall and into her bedroom, where he ripped off her pink tutu. He pushed his contorted face against hers and whispered harshly, “I’ll kill her! Kill her! Kill her! I’ll make you watch while I torture her. You’re a whoring bitch. A little bitch. I’ll kill you when I’ve finished with you. I’ll throw you away.”
Terrified, she stood shivering against the wall, cowering in front of him. She begged, “Don’t hurt her, please don’t hurt her. I’ll do it. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t hurt her.”
“You bet you’ll do anything.” He leered at her as he tugged off his trousers, then, reaching out, pulling her to him, he picked her up, threw her onto the bed, and lay down next to her. Roughly, angrily, he took her breasts in his hands and squeezed and squeezed until she cried out in pain.
He laughed, enjoying hurting her. Her pain gave him pleasure. He began to slap her face, and then put his hands around her neck and tightened his grip, choking her. But suddenly he stopped, pushed his bunched fingers into her, harder and harder and with such force she began to scream. He rolled on top of her roughly, entered her with great force, then moved against her with violence. She screamed and screamed but he did not stop.
Unexpectedly, the bedroom door burst open with a crash. Her cousin Alison flew into the room in a fury. She was holding one of their grandfather’s walking sticks, began to hit him across the shoulders with it. She was shouting, “Stop it, stop it, you bloody monster! Stop it or I’ll kill you.” She hit him on his head. Blood spurted and ran down his face and he screamed in pain. There was blood everywhere. He lay on the bed holding his head, groaning, and the blood ran down onto his hands.