“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that,” she said through gritted teeth.
“I’m not saying a word.”
“But?”
“But when Ralph announced that your back was dodgy again, it did occur to me that you might have … exerted yourself unwisely a little too much?”
Anne packed pillows behind Marnie’s back. Marnie swept a hand in a gesture that encompassed the whole cabin.
“Look around you, Anne. Do you see chains hanging on the walls, whips lying about, discarded fishnet tights? – Ralph’s, of course.”
Anne laughed. “Well, whatever the cause, Ralph and I have taken an executive decision.”
“I know. You don’t have to tell me. I’ve got to stay here and rest.”
“We’re sending for the doctor.” The tone brooked no argument.
“Nonsense!”
“You could have a slipped disc or something, Marnie. You need proper medical attention.”
“But –”
“It’s been decided. Ralph’s phoning the surgery first thing. Eat your breakfast and afterwards I’ll fetch you a bowl and some water so you can brush your teeth.”
“Yes, matron.”
“And a flannel to wash your face.”
“Yes, matron. Any chance Ralph might pop back to give me a bed bath?”
Death Stare. Exit of matron.
A visit by the doctor was promised for that afternoon. In the meantime Marnie would stay in bed, Ralph would work in his study close at hand and Anne would man the office. As far as the outside world was concerned it was business as usual at Walker & Co.
Mid-morning, Anne arrived on Thyrsis to make coffee. She brought with her the post and some routine letters for Marnie to sign.
“I’ve slit them open for you, all except one that’s marked personal.”
“Oh? What could that be?”
“It’s postmarked Watford. There’s not much inside.”
“Oh, it’s probably from that new Willards restaurant. I suppose it might be a note of appreciation for the decor from the manager. She seemed very pleased when we spoke on the phone the other day.”
“I thought it might be from British Waterways,” Anne muttered. Her attention was now focused on checking through the rest of the correspondence as she added vaguely, “They’re in Watford.”
Marnie ran her thumbnail under the flap. “Only one way to find out.”
Sitting at the foot of the bed, Anne was collecting into a pile the letters that required answers when she realised that Marnie’s silence had lasted more than the few seconds needed to scan the contents of the Watford envelope. Looking up, she was surprised to see the colour had drained from Marnie’s face.
“What’s up?” No reply. “Marnie, what is it?”
She reached forward to touch Marnie’s arm but withdrew quickly when Marnie winced with pain.
“Sorry, but what’s the matter? Is it that letter?”
“It’s nothing,” Marnie croaked.
Marnie went to put the note back in the envelope but she fumbled and it slipped to the floor. She tried to catch it and winced again. Anne was on it the moment it touched the carpet. Picking up the message she found it was a piece of lined paper torn roughly from a pad. Even if it had not fallen face up, she was determined to read it. The words stared up at her from the page.
KEEP OUT OF THE NEIL GERARD CAMPAIGN
MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS
I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE
Marnie told Anne it was just like going to the dentist with toothache. The minute you arrive there, the toothache disappears. So it was with the visit by the doctor. Soon after lunch Marnie needed to visit the bathroom. Not wanting to disturb Ralph or drag Anne through the spinney, she slipped her legs out from under the duvet and planted her feet tentatively on the floor. There was a niggle in the small of her back but not a full-blown pain. She managed to walk slowly along the passageway and make her visit with neither undue discomfort nor mishap. Feeling proud of herself, and not a little relieved at her improvement, she called to Ralph and suggested he cancel the doctor. A block of ice would have been more receptive to the idea.
Sooner than they expected the doctor came to Glebe Farm and seemed amused to be calling on a patient in a narrowboat. He examined Marnie’s back while she lay face-down on the bed. Next he asked her to perform some movements. He delivered his verdict concisely and rapidly.
“Probably just back strain, not severe enough to be a slipped disc. Physiotherapy would help and that can be arranged at the medical centre. You’ll need to ring the surgery for an appointment. In the meantime, rest the back as much as possible, no heavy lifting or undue exertion.”
He left as quickly as he had come.
Anne emerged from the study to escort him through the spinney while Ralph came in for an update. He listened to Marnie’s account before commenting.
“Well, that should help. Physiotherapy usually works wonders. One of my postgrad students at All Saints plays rugby for the university. They have their own physio who travels with them on tours. Just a young woman, manipulating all those brawny blokes. Amazing. But she certainly keeps them in shape.”
“I wonder how much she had to pay to get the job.” Marnie smiled.
“You’re feeling better, obviously.”
“Scarcely any pain at all now. I’m not sure I even need the physio.”
“But you’re going to take it,” Ralph insisted. “And you’re going to get as much rest as possible. I’ll do the shopping this afternoon on my way back from …” He looked thoughtful.
“What?”
“Nothing, just something I remembered.”
Marnie decided she should stay in bed more often. She spent most of the afternoon going through all her projects and was amazed at how much she achieved simply by being away from the phone.
When Anne took her tea she brought the box of tapes at Marnie’s request and set them down by the bed. She left the Walkman on the shelf within easy reach.
42
Marnie was anxious to know more about Adamson and Wainwright before the Spice Quay opening the following week. She looked through the tapes and wondered if she should take up Ralph’s idea of starting again with the most recent ones. But she felt unhappy to disturb the flow of the narrative and flipped open the next cassette in the series. Slotting it into Anne’s Walkman, Marnie was surprised to find herself looking forward to being in Barbara’s company again, however bizarre the circumstances. It was as if Barbara was back in touch after being away on a trip.
“Hallo, Barbara,” she whispered. “I miss you. What are you going to tell me today?”
Marnie was startled and she felt her face tingle when Barbara seemed to answer her directly.
Darling, you know what I’m going to say
There’s no need to be upset
They were lovely flowers but you know why I couldn’t take them
No, I told you I couldn’t say I’d bought them for myself
Not a bouquet like that
Charles would know they were too exquisite, too romantic
And I’m sorry about the holiday idea
Of course I’d love to go away with you, but it’s just out of the question
Charles would think it entirely out of character
I’m not the sort of person who goes on holiday by herself
Even for a weekend, you said
Especially for a weekend
Charles would think it very suspicious after I’ve chided him so often for going away and leaving me in London
In the end, Charles offered to take me on some of his business trips
Bad idea … a disaster
It was so boring
Now I know why all these big business types get so much money
It’s compensation for the dull lives they lead
They had a board meeting all morning
I asked Charles
what they’d talked about – bored meeting, I called it
I had room service for breakfast and lounged by the pool with magazines till lunchtime
They played golf all afternoon – I went for a walk – I saw them playing in the distance
Never could see the attraction of trying to knock a ball down a hole
Can you understand why they do it?
The high point of the day was supposed to be dinner
I got stuck next to some boring old fart from central purchasing
What do these people talk about with their wives?
What do their wives see in them?
The short answer is of course … money
Couldn’t be anything else
The last time I went with Charles it was for what he called a ‘working weekend’
That just means two whole days of it instead of one
That’s when I met Clive Adamson
He latched onto me immediately
He had loads of charm, seemed sharper than the others, more lively, more interesting
He seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say
So I yakked on because he actually paid me some attention
Of course I knew why he was so attentive
There’s usually only one reason why men listen to a woman
Sorry, darling, you being the exception
But frankly I was past caring
He seemed at least to have some notion of life outside the latest performance figures
In fact I don’t think I can remember anything on which he didn’t have some knowledge
He was the one who introduced me to boating
He had this cruiser – just short of being a gin palace – that he kept on the Thames near Shepperton
He invited me to go for a trip one day
I said do you mean Charles and me?
What do you think? he said
He’d left Charles’s firm by then
So it meant we could go on the boat when Charles was at his next “bored’ meeting
That first time we just cruised up and down the river
The boat was a powerful thing – twin engines, big diesels
He opened it up for me just to see the acceleration
I nearly ended up on the deck
The weather was beautiful
We stopped at a restaurant for lunch
Clive was being careful not to blow it
I didn’t give him any signals and he was canny enough not to push things
I liked that
So few men know how to behave – you being the exception again, darling
I don’t know why I’m going on about Clive Adamson
Except I didn’t feel like talking about other people today
Not when I was with you
You seemed disappointed about me not taking the flowers
And about not going away for a trip together
I thought it would be a bad idea to start going on about … you know
Anyway, we made up for it later, didn’t we?
I’m glad you were cheered up in the end
I suppose that’s why I’m rambling like this now
You know Adamson and I had a fling
Charles never knew
It lasted about two years, I suppose
Of course, we didn’t see each other very often
He had a business to run … big business – very big business
Always wheeling and dealing in the City
But I can’t pretend it wasn’t fun while it lasted
Sometimes we went on the boat, sometimes for trips out in his car
He always had beautiful cars … Mercedes, Bentleys, Jaguars
That’s one of the reasons I persuaded Charles to get the Jag
Sorry, darling, Jaguar
I know you don’t like me to call it a Jag
Essex girls call them that, you said [she laughed]
Do you know what Essex girl dabs behind her ears when she’s out for a good time?
[shriek of laughter] Her ankles!
Oh dear, I expect you’ll tell me off for that
Never mind, darling, I’ll make it up to you
Where was I?
Oh yes, the Jaguar
Clive’s was a sort of metallic champagne, I think he said it was
Charles would never have a car that colour
Too flashy for him – but I liked it
And that’s how I met Piers
Clive wanted to take me to an exhibition, an outing in his latest car
I said no at first – didn’t want to risk being seen out with him in public
Clive said none of Charles’s cronies would ever go to an art gallery
Anyway it was a private view, just art world people
Clive liked that sort of thing – lots of interests, as I said
So I thought what the hell? – anything to get out and do something
It turned out to be a one-man show
It was great – Piers had done these huge canvases
Some were abstracts – loads of complex shapes and colours
The New Psychedelia, he called them
And some were scenes of the river – to Londoners that only means the Thames
That’s what had attracted Clive
Piers said the river wasn’t London’s artery, it was London’s soul
They had an argument about whether a soul could be made of dirty water
Piers insisted the soul was always made of dirty water
He said it wasn’t transparent at all – because of all the impurities that go through it
He said that’s why people always prayed for their souls to be purified
Personally I think they’d both had one glass of bubbly too many
But it was fun, yes, I was with a businessman and it was fun
Amazing
I suddenly realised I was enjoying myself for the first time in ages
I was on the periphery of their conversation but at the same time in the centre
I knew they both fancied me like mad
I could feel it in the air
It was stupid, I know, but it was a marvellous change
Virtually all Charles’s other colleagues were as boring as pigswill
And before you start getting any ideas there was never any … overlap
I’d finished with Clive long before – well some time before – I took up with Piers
Or perhaps it was Clive who finished with me
I never did know why … he just became more and more difficult to see
He protested it was too much work
He’d taken over some big outfit that was struggling
It had world class potential, he said
He sold off some parts to pay for restructuring and that was the last I knew
I got most of my news about him from Charles who was a tiny bit jealous, I think
Jealous of Clive’s business success, I mean
He said he got control of the bank with hardly any effort or opposition
People thought it was a lame duck, but Clive saw the potential
He brought in some whiz-kids, threw out the old guard – bingo!
Millions – what he’d always dreamed of
I was seeing Piers by then, so I heard about him from that side as well
Piers was made, became the fashionable artist almost overnight
Everyone was talking about him
And it was all down to Clive
Clive commissioned paintings, sculptures
He’d seen the potential in Piers, too
Piers said there were countless talented artists
The art schools churned them out by the hundred every year
But it’s getting someone who recognises your talent that really counts
The best customers are the rich ones
Piers said that, but it could just as easily have been Clive
With Piers’ works on display, Clive made the ba
nk look impressive and successful
Every visitor to HQ saw these vast works of art
It was like having Michelangelo to work for you
That was how Piers described it … modesty was not one of his virtues
And for a bank, the thousands they paid Piers were just loose change
And tax-deductible
Piers resented that, being classed as a business expense
He hated the idea of being ‘tax efficient’, part of Clive’s marketing strategy
But he loved the exposure and the extra commissions it brought him
So that’s how he became the most fashionable artist in London
He gave me one of his smaller river paintings, knew I loved boats and the water
And he did a portrait of me
He never paints portraits, but he made an exception in my case
Charles was delighted, never suspected there was anything between us
He was too busy with his own business concerns, of course
And I was always there when he was around
I think he thought I was always there when he was at work
He thought I was always out shopping, doing lunch with my girlfriends
His type of man thinks that’s what women do
I said perhaps when he was out, he was doing lunch with his girlfriends
He didn’t like that
I saw straight away he was upset that I should even joke about that sort of thing
I backed off, never said anything like that again
He’s too good to upset
Perhaps it’s one of his insecurities
I’m sure all men have them
Clive and Piers had their egos, fragile sometimes
They worry about how they perform in some key departments
Not just in their professional lives
You don’t have any misgivings like that, no hang-ups about inadequacies
And you shouldn’t have, my darling
The tape ended abruptly. Marnie opened the Walkman to see if it had snapped or jammed, but it was still intact. She wound it back and ran the last sentences again with the same result.
She rewound to the beginning and listened to the whole tape again. It was obvious that Neil was trying to extend their affair. Flowers, a holiday together, or at least a weekend away. Marnie was well aware that men tended to become possessive the longer a relationship lasted. Neil needed a reminder that this was not an available option. Perhaps that was why Barbara had spoken at length about Adamson and Wainwright. She seemed to find it easier to talk about them on tape rather than in person.