Michael Ridpath - Amnesia

They all arrived back at the villa in Deauville with a case of champagne. Several bottles were drunk by the time dinner was served. Alden had given his English butler the weekend off; Monsieur and Madame Lemoine, who took care of the villa, would cook and wait on us. The dinner was lamb cutlets, and the champagne gave way to red wine. Tony had big plans; he announced that now he could stay on in Europe he would travel down to Italy for a month, staying in either Florence or maybe Capri to paint in peace.

‘He must have put a serious amount on that horse,’ I said to Stephen, who was sitting next to me. ‘And he must not be quite as rich as he seems.’

‘He did. Actually, my guess is Alden gave him the stake money. In theory Alden had a thousand-franc bet on Fantastic, but from the way he watched the race it seemed like a lot more.’

‘How did you do?’

Stephen winced. ‘Lost every race. It was a painful day for me.’ For Stephen to wince like that he must have bet a considerable sum. I had no idea how wealthy Stephen was apart from that he had more than enough to meet his needs; I had never yet seen him in a position where the cost of anything had been a consideration.

‘I thought I knew what I was doing, but I should have followed Elaine,’ Stephen said. ‘She backed two outsiders. Luck seems to be smiling on her.’

Elaine, on the other side of the table, was basking in her good fortune, and in the good champagne.

‘I think she would rather have you smiling on her,’ I said.

‘Far too young for me,’ said Stephen. ‘Are you interested?’

‘I don’t think I’m her type, somehow,’ I said. She was only a couple of years younger than Stephen and me, about the same age as Joyce.

‘How did you get on with Sophie today?’

‘It was terrific. Honfleur is gorgeous.’

‘As is Sophie.’

‘She’s only nineteen, you know? Much too young for you.’

Stephen had a penchant for older women, and they had a penchant for him. His mother, who was only thirty-eight, had shared him around some of her friends in the Riviera. It was just one of the countless ways that Stephen’s life was different from mine.

‘Only nineteen?’ said Stephen. ‘I’m not sure whether I’m disappointed or intrigued.’

‘Forget it,’ I said, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of my voice. ‘Not your type.’

Although I had no illusions about his chances with Sophie, the idea of Stephen having his way with her appalled me. She was better than that.

After dinner we went through to the drawing room. Here the English owner had outdone himself, although I rather liked the result. Huge tapestries showing knights and maidens hung on the walls, vying for attention with a boar’s head and two pairs of swords. A cuirassier’s breastplate and helmet stood beside the large fireplace and an arquebus rested above it. Several heavy dark wooden chests lurked on the floor. The chairs and sofas were covered in embroidered fabric of a deep red, but they were comfortable.

More champagne was opened. Alden, Tony and Elaine were really quite drunk now. Elaine was giggling, Tony was beaming at everyone and everything and Alden’s words were losing clarity and gaining volume. The rest of us were quite merry too, and my head was swimming pleasantly.

‘You wait till we get back to Paris, Tony!’ Alden exclaimed. ‘We’ll celebrate properly then.’

‘We will, we will!’ said Tony raising his glass.

‘We will!’ said Elaine raising her glass too and knocking back the contents.

‘Oh, Alden!’ said Madeleine. There was more than frustration with her husband in her voice, there was anger.

‘Oh come on, my darling,’ Alden said, smiling. ‘You can come too. You will enjoy it.’

‘Enjoy it? Enjoy it?’ Madame Burns’s face was reddening under her make-up. ‘Who do you think I am?’ She had switched to French, but her words were loud and clear, so that I could easily understand them and so could her husband. ‘You don’t understand me at all! I forbid you to go to those places. I forbid it!’

For a moment fury danced in Alden’s eyes, fury and danger. The room was silent. The genial host had disappeared and someone else had taken his place.

Alden looked at his guests, and smiled. The fury was gone, the danger had passed. ‘Of course, my darling,’ he said in English. ‘Would you like some more champagne?’

‘No,’ said Madeleine. ‘I’m going to bed now. I have a headache.’

She jumped up from her chair. Sophie stood up to follow her sister.

‘You stay, Sophie,’ Madeleine said in French. ‘Stay!’

It was a command, and Sophie stayed.

‘But you should be in bed, Elaine,’ Madeleine said.

For a second Elaine looked as if she was going to argue, but then she latched on to a better strategy. ‘Of course, I will go in just a moment.’

‘See that she does,’ said Madeleine to her husband and left the room.

Alden grinned at his guests, winked at Tony and refilled glasses. I glanced at Sophie. She caught my eye — see what I mean? I did. Did Alden just not understand his wife, or by pretending not to, did he hope he could get his way? I was very glad now I hadn’t stayed on at the Panier Fleuri.

A damp blanket of silence settled on the room, like mist on a meadow, but like a mist it was soon melted away by the champagne and by the excitement of the afternoon’s winnings. Tony asked me about the paintings I had seen in Honfleur’s galleries. Elaine lingered, perching on the armrest of Tony’s chair. Stephen was sitting next to Sophie and gently got her to loosen up. Nathan chatted to his uncle, trying to recover the mood.

Even when drunk, Tony Volstead’s enthusiasm for art was infectious. Elaine seemed to like it, she had slipped off the armrest of the chair into his lap. Alden had joined Stephen and Sophie on one of the sofas; everyone always seemed to drift towards Stephen. Nathan was slumped on the other sofa, staring at his champagne glass.

‘Get off me, Alden!’

I turned to see Sophie pushing Alden away from her. Her voice was sharp, but Alden was now very drunk. He rocked backwards, and then pursing his lips in a ludicrous pucker leaned forward again.

‘I said, get off me!’ Sophie repeated.

I leaped to my feet and grabbed Alden’s shoulder. ‘I say, steady on. You’d better leave her alone, don’t you think?’

‘But she’s so beautiful,’ said Alden. ‘Madeleine won’t mind.’

God, this is going to be embarrassing in the morning, I thought. ‘I think she will,’ I said quietly. ‘But more to the point, Sophie minds.’

Alden opened his mouth, but before he could say anything I heard a swish of steel through air.

‘ En garde! ’ Stephen had taken down one of the swords from the wall. ‘Unhand that wench!’

‘Stephen, put that down!’ I protested.

Alden smiled. ‘Ha!’ he cried, unhanded Sophie and leaped for the other sword.

He slashed two or three times in front of his body, with remarkable speed for one so drunk.

‘Come on, chaps, put them down,’ I said. I considered stepping forward to intervene, but the points of those blades looked sharp. They weren’t fencing swords; they were the real things, manufactured a few centuries before for killing people.

Stephen took up a dramatic pose, no doubt imagining himself as some kind of d’Artagnan. Alden slipped into something altogether more professional; this man had fenced before.

‘Show him, Alden!’ Tony yelled. ‘One for all and all for one! No. All for one and one for all!’

Stephen slashed his sword at least a couple of feet away from Alden’s face.

Alden lunged, parried and nicked Stephen’s sleeve. He then stood up and grinned. ‘The wench is mine!’