Chapter 4 #3
Diana narrowed her eyes and stubbed her cigarette out next to a half-eaten scone.
‘Darling, that’s not an ashtray,’ Elizabeth chided her.
There was a momentary pause as the wind rustled in the wisteria.
‘Anyway, Clementine doesn’t want to listen to us talking business.’ Elizabeth picked up a plate. ‘Clementine, have a cucumber sandwich and tell us all about you. Where are you from?’
Clementine knew that this was not a geographical question. It was much more loaded than that. But she knew exactly how much to give away, and what to say to reassure Elizabeth and Michael that she was suitable.
‘I’m from Salisbury.’
‘Oh.’ Elizabeth pondered her reply. ‘The cathedral. That’s all I know about Salisbury.’
Clementine laughed. ‘That’s all anyone knows. My father’s the bursar of a girls’ school. It’s where he met my mother, after she was widowed in the first war. She was the Latin mistress.’
‘A brain box. How marvellous.’ Elizabeth looked impressed.
‘Amo, amas, amat,’ intoned Michael.
‘Gallia in tres partes divisa est,’ said Rory.
‘I don’t see the point of Latin, unless you’re looking at tombstones,’ said Diana.
‘That just makes you a savage, darling.’
Diana scowled at her mother. Clementine sensed the antagonism between them bubbling up again. She ploughed on, hoping to smooth things over.
‘I was useless at it, even though my mother was the teacher. But they’re jolly important, the Romans, when you think about it.’
‘Quite,’ agreed Michael. ‘We wouldn’t have roads, or plumbing, or a legal system. Or wine.’
‘We’d have worked it all out eventually,’ said Diana.
‘Peas,’ said Rory brightly. ‘They brought us peas. Where would we be without peas?’
‘Poor Clementine,’ said Elizabeth. ‘She came here for a lovely birthday tea, not to be grilled about what the Romans did for us.’
‘I’m quite used to it.’
‘Anyway, you live in London now?’
‘I do, yes. In Kensington. And I work in Soho. For my half-brother. Benjamin Bell.’
Everyone looked blank.
‘He’s got a small art gallery. He’s very good at discovering new talent.
’ She wondered if she should go on to tell them about what an admirer of Edwin Ben was, but noticed a look of utter horror on Elizabeth’s face.
Was talking about paintings dangerous territory?
She didn’t want to upset anyone. Had she made a terrible faux pas?
Then the look disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and Clementine turned to see a man striding around the corner of the house.
In a pale linen suit with a Panama hat and dark glasses, he looked as if he belonged in the heat and dust of Havana or Singapore or Bombay.
‘Jasper!’ Alfie’s obvious delight was in total contrast to Elizabeth’s reaction. Clementine watched as the two men clasped each other.
‘Many happy returns, old boy,’ said Jasper, untangling himself and heading towards the table. ‘Michael.’ He held out a hand to be shaken. ‘Diana.’ He dropped a kiss on her head then ruffled her hair. Diana went beetroot, with what Clementine couldn’t be sure. Confusion? ‘Elizabeth.’
Elizabeth held up a cheek to be kissed.
‘I thought Alfie said you were otherwise engaged.’ Her voice sounded tight. She didn’t look pleased.
‘I am. I’m on my way down to sail in Dartmouth with friends, so I thought I’d drop by. Hello, Rory.’ Once he’d shaken Rory’s hand he turned to Clementine. ‘And who have we here? I’m Jasper Stone.’
‘This is Clementine,’ said Alfie. ‘Jasper is – was – is, Edwin’s best friend and partner in many crimes. He’s one of the family, really.’
‘How lovely to meet you.’
As she took Jasper’s hand, Clementine felt disconcerted.
Not because of any effect he had on her.
She’d met enough of his ilk not to have her head turned by superficial charm and dazzling good looks – Johnny Mullinger at the Savoy the other evening, for a start.
But underneath everyone’s apparent delight at Jasper’s arrival, she could feel an undercurrent.
A ripple of unease, like a fly landing in a bowl of raspberry jam.
From nowhere, Jasper produced a bottle of champagne. ‘Glasses, Daisy. We’ll need glasses.’
Daisy nodded. ‘I’ll get some. And shall I bring the cake?’ She deferred to Elizabeth, who smiled. She seemed to have recovered her composure.
‘Yes, bring the cake. Why not?’
‘And here.’ Jasper dropped a brown paper bag in front of Alfie. ‘Signed by the man himself, I’ll have you know.’
Clementine knew what was going to be inside the bag before Alfie had a chance to open it. Moments later, he drew out a book.
‘Oh,’ said Alfie. ‘Casino Royale. I’ve heard all about it. What a marvellous present. Thank you.’
‘Hang on to it. It’ll be worth something one day.’ Jasper had fetched himself another chair from across the terrace, and folded himself neatly into it.
‘I shall.’
Clementine took a gulp of her lemonade. Alfie caught her eye and gave a gentle smile of apology. She gave the tiniest shake of her head together with her own smile to assure him it didn’t matter in the least.
When Daisy brought out the cake, three layers with white icing on the top, Jasper leapt up to help her light the candles.
As Alfie blew them out, to a rousing chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’, Clementine marvelled how a few weeks ago she hadn’t even known this man existed, yet it felt as if she’d known him all her life.
As he slid in a silver knife to cut the first slice, everyone urged him to make a wish.
‘Don’t you worry,’ he said. ‘I’ve made one already.’ He caught Clementine’s eye again.
‘I always wish the same thing,’ Diana announced. ‘For Edwin to come back. To walk round the side of the house like you just did, Jasper, and surprise us all.’
There was an awkward silence. Diana looked defiant.
‘What?’ she said. ‘Are we not supposed to talk about him?’
‘Of course we can talk about him, darling,’ said Elizabeth, but she looked upset.
Clementine remembered Alfie saying Edwin was often an awkward subject. She tried to imagine how her family would react if Ben died. It would always be difficult, she supposed.
‘In fact,’ said Jasper, who meanwhile had opened the champagne and filled up all the glasses, ‘let’s drink to him. I know it’s Alfie’s birthday, but he’s definitely here in spirit. To Edwin.’
‘To Edwin,’ everyone murmured, including Clementine. She noticed Michael look away, across the lawns, his jaw clenched, and her heart broke for him.
The cake was cut up and everyone was given a piece.
‘This is absolutely splendid, Daisy,’ said Alfie, digging his fork in. ‘You’ve done me proud.’
Before Daisy could reply, another figure stepped out of the French windows.
‘Here you all are,’ said a languid voice.
‘Oh, Christ,’ said Jasper, sotto voce.
‘Alexandra! You made it,’ said Elizabeth.
All the men except Jasper stood up as the most extraordinary creature made her way across the terrace.
Her head was wrapped in a fringed scarf from which peeped tufts of raven-black hair, a colour God definitely had not given her, and she was draped in what looked like a man’s dressing gown, but somehow she made it look the height of fashion.
She was heavily made up, and as she fell into the nearest empty chair, Clementine breathed in a dangerous scent that reminded her of an opium den. Not that she’d ever been to one.
‘Ooh,’ said Alexandra, catching sight of her. ‘You look far too sweet to be with Jasper. He only likes fallen women. Tell me you’re with Alfie.’
‘I am.’ Clementine smiled.
‘Marvellous. Though I’m afraid you’ll need my approval if things are going to go anywhere.’
‘Leave her alone.’ Alfie strode round the table to give her a hug. ‘I don’t want you frightening her off.’
‘I take my godmotherly duties very seriously.’ She sat back in her chair and turned her face up to the sun. ‘Bliss. London’s such hell when the sun comes out. All those armpits.’ She wrinkled her nose.
There was a faint look of alarm on Daisy’s face.
‘That’ll be eight for dinner, then,’ said Daisy. ‘I’d better go and magic up some more lamb chops.’