Lucy Gordon - A Convenient Wedding

When they were sitting in a café he observed, ‘You were supposed to be staying longer. Couldn’t live without us, I suppose?’

‘After what I saw I wanted to come home as soon as possible,’ she said in a low voice.

‘Sarah, what’s the matter. You look as if you’ve been crying.’

‘Oh, Jarvis, I don’t know how to tell you-it’s so terrible-’

‘What can be that terrible?’ he said, laughing. He was quite unsuspicious.

‘I went to a party in New York. It was given by Benedict Steen in that place she’s bought him. He and Meryl-’

‘Sarah, it’s all right. They’re just friends. She’s explained it all to me.’

In silence Sarah laid two pictures on the table.

The photographer who’d covered the party was good at his job. His work was sharp, with every detail in focus. It was a toss-up which shot was better, the one of Meryl dancing with Benedict, looking up into his face while he laughed down at her, his hand pointing towards her half-revealed breasts, or the one showing the two of them kissing.

‘I see,’ Jarvis said in a colourless voice. ‘I think we should get off home now.’

He rose and walked away. Sarah was a little disappointed that he left the pictures behind, but no matter. They’d served their purpose.

Another fifteen minutes and she would call Jarvis. Another ten minutes. Like a child postponing a treat Meryl watched the clock, counting the seconds until she could allow herself the pleasure.

Their phone calls always had an air of unreality. There was good-humoured banter and an undercurrent of tension, connected with the fierce kiss he’d given her. There had been another one when he saw her off at the airport, but that had been a restrained ‘married’ kiss, suitable for the eyes of strangers. The other had hinted at the passionate unrestraint of lovers, and that was the one she wanted to hurry back to.

Five minutes, four…

The phone rang.

‘Meryl?’

As soon as she heard Jarvis’s voice a smile spread all over her, and it was there in her own voice as she replied. ‘Yes, it’s me.’

But then everything went horribly wrong, as though the world had turned to ice around her, leaving her shivering and disbelieving.

Jarvis’s voice was more hostile than she’d ever heard it. ‘I trusted you. Fool that I was, I trusted you.’

‘Jarvis, what are you-?’

‘Not at first, mind you,’ he went on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘At first I knew more or less what you were up to, and I wasn’t interested. That was what annoyed you, wasn’t it? A man who wasn’t interested. You can’t stand that. So you set yourself to bring me to heel, just for the pleasure of showing me who had the power.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Benedict Steen. A man you dance with half-naked and kiss in front of all the world. I’ve seen the pictures. Did you think they wouldn’t get back to me?’

‘Sarah,’ she breathed.

‘Yes, Sarah saw what you were up to.’

‘And made the worst of it.’

‘Is there any worst or best when my wife cavorts half-naked with her lover for anyone to see?’

‘He isn’t-’

‘Oh, please, I’ve heard that speech, and you were so convincing. But then you always were when you wanted to deceive me.’ She thought she heard a shuddering breath, and when he spoke again his voice wasn’t quite steady.

‘I was the last man in the world you could have persuaded, but that was the point, wasn’t it? The more I fought you, the greater your victory. You should be very proud of yourself, Meryl, because in the end you took me in completely. I was even falling in lo-’ Suddenly he couldn’t go on.

‘Jarvis, listen,’ she said urgently. ‘Benedict is back with his wife, and I made it happen. That party was to celebrate their reconciliation.’

‘Indeed! And I suppose his wife was watching while you kissed him.’

‘Yes, she was, and she was having the laugh of her life-’

‘Meryl, let it go.’ Jarvis sounded very tired. ‘You’ve won. I give in. Hang my scalp from your belt if it’s that important, just don’t come back to Larne. We made a deal and we’ve each kept our side. Leave it there.’

Meryl’s temper had been rising, and now it burst out. ‘No, damn you! I won’t leave it there. How dare you judge me without a hearing!’

‘Those pictures speak for themselves. What do I need to hear?’

‘Try listening to the truth, even if it doesn’t fit neatly into your preconceived ideas. I’ve always known you were a hard, judgmental man, but I thought we might find some love, and maybe it would be enough to make you ease up. But that’s not good enough for you, is it?

‘I haven’t been playing games, Jarvis. I love Larne. I could have loved you. But you don’t want to be loved. That’s what you can’t accept. Not just material things, but the love that goes with them. Love means taking risks, making mental leaps, and you find it safer to stay in your suspicious world. Everyone’s bad in there, and that’s how you like it, because that way you know what to think.

‘So stay in it. Never fear my coming back, because I won’t, ever. I haven’t played you false, and one day you’ll know that. But don’t bother trying to tell me because I’m finished! I’ve got better things to do with my life than spend it banging my head against a brick wall.’

Thousands of miles away Jarvis heard the click as she slammed down the phone. He had no way of hearing her storm of sobs.

Somehow life went on. Workmen arrived at Larne to start on the central heating. It was too late to cancel it now. That would invite too many questions, and Jarvis hadn’t the heart. A lassitude had descended on him. Everywhere he saw signs of new hope such as once he hadn’t dared dream of. And suddenly it all seemed so futile.

He tried to be logical. It was unreasonable to miss her so badly, except of course for estate matters where her presence would have been useful. But there were no estate matters in the middle of the night, and then the loss of her was a grinding misery that went on and on without relief.

It would have been convenient to have her around for the lunch that he held annually for his tenants and their families. He flinched at the thought of the curious eyes, the unspoken questions.

They all trooped in, Ned Race and Clarrie, his wife, Jack Tompkins and his Freda, Lillian, who rented a farm on her own account and took orders from no man, Peter and Elsie Somers and their daughter Helena, Sadie of the wools, and a dozen more. Meryl’s absence provoked a response that troubled Jarvis, but not in the way he’d expected.

‘New York, eh?’ Sadie exclaimed and looked around at the other women. They nodded. ‘She’s selling our stuff. She said she would.’

Jarvis was silent, heartsick. How could he tell these decent, kindly people that she’d betrayed them?

But Sarah would tell them. She and Ferdy were always invited, and over lunch she made herself busy. Jarvis couldn’t hear her words, but he could see the bewildered expressions of the others.

He functioned on automatic and managed somehow. Afterwards they all retired to the library for coffee, and a dispute flared up between Lillian and one of the men farmers about a news item she’d picked up that morning. Lillian was bolshie enough for ten and she went at it hammer and tongs, to everyone’s entertainment.

‘Must we argue now?’ Jarvis asked at last. ‘I think Lillian’s right, but it’ll be on the news tonight.’

‘It’ll be on the teletext right now,’ Lillian said firmly.

‘All right, if it’ll satisfy you. Ferdy, you’re nearest the set.’

Ferdy switched the television on and channel-hopped. Suddenly he stopped as though frozen, and said in a strange voice, ‘Isn’t that Meryl?’

Everyone looked at the screen where Meryl could clearly be viewed sashaying along a catwalk, clad in a knitted garment that brought yells of recognition.

‘We did that!’ The women spoke with one triumphant voice.

‘Mr Steen said design something wild and crazy for him,’ Sadie said. ‘I went as mad as I dared but he said “more”. So I made it madder and madder, and by the time he was satisfied it took three women to knit it and sew it together.’

Ferdy had turned up the sound and they listened, enthralled, to the announcer.

‘…Benedict Steen’s collection having its first showing in New York. There on the catwalk is his backer, Meryl Winters, now Lady Larne, modelling one of the revolutionary fashion knits from the Larne estate…’

‘Fancy that,’ Freda muttered. ‘We’re revolutionary.’

Ned Race tried to mutter something disparaging, but he was drowned out by every woman present.

‘She said she’d show our stuff in New York,’ Clarrie carolled. ‘You-’ she pointed an accusing finger at her husband ‘-you said she couldn’t do it.’

‘Lady Larne is a woman of her word,’ Ferdy observed, eyeing Jarvis steadily.

Jarvis didn’t see him. He was beyond speech or movement, his gaze fixed on his wife almost dancing elegantly along the catwalk, her smile brilliant.

Now she was talking to the presenter, pointing out details of the glorious creation she wore.

‘That’s us she’s talking about,’ Clarrie breathed. ‘Our knits. We’re high fashion!’

Ned Race, staging a rearguard action, muttered something and Clarrie turned on him.

‘You shut up, you old fool. With the orders I’m getting there’s enough to mend the pig barn and pay off the bank. So you can stir yourself and do some work for a change.’

Ned cast her a hunted look, but relapsed into silence.

Meryl had vanished from the screen, and the camera wandered over the crowd while the presenter continued in voiceover.

‘After this the collection will go to Paris, Milan, Rome, London-an extended trip that for Benedict Steen will also be a second honeymoon with his wife Amanda, with whom he’s recently been reconciled. Meryl, there’s a rumour that you played Cupid. Is it true?’

Meryl’s voiceover: ‘I did my bit, because if ever two people belong together Benedict and Amanda do. But they love each other, so this was always inevitable.’

Now Benedict was centre screen, his arm around a young woman, his adoring eyes on her. And there was Meryl beside them, laughing and calling to Benedict, ‘Kiss her-go on, kiss her-’ and leading the applause when he did.

Jarvis didn’t know how he got through the rest of the afternoon. Somehow he made the right responses, smiled without knowing why, and fended off questions. In his head he could hear Meryl’s voice,

I haven’t played you false, and one day you’ll know that. But don’t bother trying to tell me.

He came out of his unhappy reverie to discover that Ferdy was talking to him.

‘Sarah suddenly decided that she wanted to leave,’ he said in a voice that gave nothing away. ‘She’s gone ahead to the boat and asked me to say goodbye to you.’

‘I understand,’ said Jarvis, who was beginning to understand a lot of things.

At last it was mercifully over and he could be alone with his thoughts. But they were ugly and bitter and left him nowhere to hide.

He escaped to his room, but found a noise coming from the connecting passage. There he found a workman making measurements.

‘Central heating,’ the young man explained.

‘Oh, yes.’

‘It’s a bit narrow in here for a radiator,’ Fred observed.

‘You could cut a bit out of this inner wall,’ Jarvis said, trying to make himself interested. ‘It must be feet thick, so there’ll be no problem.’

The next day the workman started drilling, and almost at once he knew that the stone wall wasn’t feet thick. No more than ten inches, he estimated from the sound. He kept going and soon emerged on the other side. Then he drilled again until he was able to move one large stone right out. He held up his flashlight and peered in. What he saw made him freeze for a long, shocked moment before hurrying away to find his foreman.

SO OFTEN in dreams Meryl had opened her door to find Jarvis standing there that when the unfamiliar knock had come she’d gone flying to the door, pulling it open without using the security speaker, ready to say it was all a mistake, that if he was sorry, so was she.

But outside there had been only a stranger, surrounded by boxes and trunks. Jarvis had sent all her possessions from Larne. She never opened her door spontaneously again.

She had slammed the phone down on him in a moment of anger, but, despite her misery, after that one moment of hope she had no regrets. There was no way back. She’d played and lost, and nothing but grief could come of clinging to false dreams.

As day had followed dreary, desperate day, she’d worked at being strong-minded. She was now in the position she’d plotted and schemed for, her money in her own hands, a husband who’d vanished back whence he came, and the world before her. This was what she’d wanted. She told herself that.