‘Oh, are you going?’ said Caroline, with an unconvincing display of regret.
‘I think so,’ said Ella. ‘Don’t you?’ The two women looked at each other for a few moments before Patrick disentangled himself from Caroline’s arms. He nodded brusquely to Ella and walked out of the hall.
‘I’m sorry I called you a tart,’ said Caroline in a rush. Ella shrugged.
‘I don’t mind. Words like that don’t mean anything to me.’
‘How can you be so calm?’ Caroline stared at her in bemusement. ‘After all that’s happened!’
‘What’s happened? I fucked Charles. Nothing more.’
‘That’s enough to be going on with.’
‘You’ve changed your attitude,’ said Ella. ‘Interesting.’
‘Yes, well,’ said Caroline in an uncompromising voice. ‘We all change.’
Ella’s eyes surveyed Caroline’s face quickly and she gave a little nod.
‘I see. I really am unwelcome here, aren’t I?’ Caroline was silent.
‘All right. I won’t take long to get my things together.’
‘Then what will you do?’ Caroline’s curiosity overcame her.
‘Do? I should think I’ll go straight to Italy. I’ve had enough of this country.’
‘Oh well…’ Caroline’s curiosity vanished as quickly as it had arisen. Ella’s life in Italy, as she had described it, was so far removed from Caroline’s idea of what life should be like as to be uninteresting.
As Ella went towards the stairs, Caroline wondered whether this was really the same plump, friendly girl who had lived with Charles in Seymour Road and looked up to him like a god. They had all changed since leaving Seymour Road, she thought. Except perhaps Stephen and Annie. And, of course, they still lived there. Caroline stood and thought about this for a while, and almost felt as though she was on the brink of some startling revelation. But the effort of thinking it out was a bit too much. She shook her head irritably and looked around.
‘Well, we’re off now.’ Cressida’s tremulous voice came down from the landing. Ella looked at Caroline quizzically from halfway up the staircase and shrugged. The next moment, Cressida’s blond hair appeared round the corner. She descended a couple of steps—then saw Ella and stopped. The two women stared at each other for a few seconds. Cressida recoiled slightly; Ella’s shoulders became taut. Caroline was reminded of a couple of cats put in the same room with no warning.
Then Cressida smiled. It was the smile of a well-bred woman; a smile of duty; the sort of smile that could mask a thousand emotions.
‘Goodbye,’ she said. She paused, and seemed about to say something else—but then appeared to think better of it. Caroline nodded approvingly. There really wasn’t anything else to say.
‘Goodbye,’ said Ella, in an easy voice. There was a slight pause, as neither seemed sure which way to move. But suddenly Ella bounded up the staircase, taking it two steps at a time. She reached the top and disappeared along the corridor. Cressida looked down, caught Caroline’s eye, and smiled with unmistakable relief.
‘You don’t have to go,’ said Caroline, eyeing Cressida’s suitcase. ‘You can always stay here.’
‘I know,’ said Cressida. ‘But I think I’d like to get home. Try and sort things out.’
Charles came down the stairs, laden with bags. He looked anxiously at Cressida and then at Caroline. ‘Thank you for putting up with us,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry. That’s all I can say.’
‘Don’t apologize to me,’ said Caroline, more harshly than she had intended. To compensate, she gave him a kind look. ‘Take care of yourselves,’ she said. ‘And let us know if—you know—if we can help or anything.’ Charles nodded wordlessly.
Caroline followed them out into the drive to wave them all off in their Bentley. Charles’ face looked haggard as he leant out of the window, and Caroline tried to find a spark of Schadenfreude to cheer herself up with. She usually found it possible to gloat over the misfortunes of even her closest friends. But somehow this situation was far too big for that. Just thinking about it caused the base of her spine to tingle unpleasantly.
When they had gone, she wandered aimlessly back inside and wondered what to do. Everyone was gone, or getting ready to go. But it was still warm. She might be able to fit in some last-minute sunbathing.
She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of white wine, opened a packet of peanuts and poured them into a bowl. For good measure, she added a jar of marinated olives. She put all of these, plus the bottle of wine, onto a tray and took them out onto the terrace. Her steamer chair was in just the right position to catch the rays of afternoon sun, and soon she was agreeably ensconced, her eyes closed and her feet up. At least it hadn’t rained, she thought idly. They really had been very lucky with the weather. And tomorrow, with any luck, it would be hot again, and she could sunbathe topless.
When Stephen and Annie shepherded Nicola and Toby onto the terrace to say goodbye to Caroline, they found her asleep on the steamer chair.
‘Never mind,’ whispered Annie. ‘We can each write her a nice letter.’
Out by the car, Patrick was waiting to see them off.
‘Thanks for a lovely weekend,’ said Annie. ‘It really was.’
‘Thanks, Patrick,’ said Stephen, rather shamefacedly. ‘Sorry about all that bother.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ said Patrick. ‘It’s your right to decide what to do with your own money.’
‘Well, yes, I suppose it is,’ said Stephen.
They carefully manoeuvred the car out of the drive and drove off, still waving.
‘Well, thank God for that,’ said Stephen.
‘For what?’ said Nicola at once.
‘Nothing,’ said Stephen.
‘For a lovely time,’ said Annie. ‘That’s what you meant, isn’t it, Stephen?’
‘Oh, er, yes,’ said Stephen. ‘For a lovely time.’ He put his foot down and the car leapt forward, as though as eager as him to get away; to get away from the lovely time, back to real life and home.
* * *
Last to leave was Ella. She put her bag on the backseat of her car and looked around for someone to say goodbye to. But no one was about. Shrugging, she slipped into the front seat and drove quickly and neatly out of the drive. Her little car was soon zipping along the motorway; she opened the sunroof and began to hum. She had already forgotten Caroline and Patrick; Annie and Stephen; had forgotten about the tennis party. Her mind was on the hills of Tuscany, on her lover, Maud Vennings. Maud would now, perhaps, be sitting outside her villa, sipping Strega, wondering if Ella was going to return to her. Business in England, Ella had told her. Unfinished business. But now there was nothing to keep her.
ALSO BY MADELEINE WICKHAM
A Desirable Residence
The Wedding Girl
Sleeping Arrangements
The Gatecrasher
Cocktails for Three
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
40 LOVE. Copyright © 1995 by Madeleine Wickham. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Wickham, Madeleine.
40 Love / Madeleine Wickham.—1st U.S. ed.
p. cm.
“A Thomas Dunne Book.”
ISBN 0-312-14053-3
1. Married people—Fiction. 2. Tennis players—Fiction. 3. England—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6073.I246 T46 1996
823'.914—dc20 95026162
ISBN 978-0-312-56275-5 (second hardcover edition)
Originally published in Great Britain by Black Swan Books, a division of Transworld Publ
ishers, Ltd.
First published in the United States by Thomas Dunne Books, an imprint of St. Martin’s Press
Second St. Martin’s Press Hardcover Edition: September 2011
eISBN 978-1-4299-9045-5
First Thomas Dunne Books eBook Edition: August 2011
Sophie Kinsella, 40 Love
(Series: # )
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