Barbara Taylor Bradford - Playing the Game

Annette said, ‘That’s nice of you, darling; yes, thank you, thank you very much.’

A small silence fell between them; the three of them sat back, sipping their champagne, relaxing, enjoying being together in this beautiful room in front of the blazing fire on this cold day.

It was Marius who broke the silence when he asked, ‘Are you still planning to drive down to Kent tomorrow? To review Christopher’s paintings?’

‘Yes. I must make some decisions. In fact, he must, too. I’ve got to start making my plans for the next auction.’

‘You’ve never actually said what else there is in his late uncle’s collection.’ Marius gave her a very direct, penetrating look. ‘Either there’s something really special or absolutely nothing at all. Come on, sweetheart, spill the beans.’

Annette shook her head. ‘No, no, I’m not keeping secrets from you, if that’s what you’re suggesting,’ she instantly shot back, a frown knotting her brow. ‘And actually, I did tell you there were a couple of Impressionists, and also an important piece of sculpture. As for paintings, there’s a Cassatt and a Degas, and I did tell you.’

Catching the nuance of irritation in her voice, he said, in a placating tone, ‘Come to think of it, that you did, I’d just forgotten. In fact, didn’t you say there was a Giacometti sculpture in the collection also?’

‘I did, and I know it’s valuable. Oh, and there’s a Cézanne. I admire his work, you know. For some reason it’s really dirty, therefore it must be cleaned. I can’t imagine what that uncle of Christopher’s was like. A careless man, I suppose, at least when it came to taking care of his art collection. Imagine neglecting a Rembrandt and a Cézanne. He didn’t even have the collection catalogued, at least as far as I know. And Christopher doesn’t know very much more than I do. Apparently he wasn’t close to his uncle, hardly knew him, but since there was no other heir, he inherited the collection.’

‘Everything else as well,’ Laurie murmured. ‘I read about it in the papers. There was some sort of really sad incident in his life, and he became a recluse, as well as being something of an eccentric anyway – the uncle I mean.’

Marius, thoughtful, said slowly, ‘I believe it was a broken engagement, or a divorce; there was a woman involved, some tragedy, if I remember correctly. I think you and I read the same newspaper stories, Laurie.’ He glanced at his wife. ‘Don’t you know any of the family background?’

‘Not much. Christopher has never told me anything. He’s rather shy, reticent.’

‘Ho, ho, that’s what you think, is it! Well, he’s certainly not too shy to ogle you. He’s got big eyes for you, Annette.’ Marius laughed. It sounded a little hollow.

‘That’s not true. And he’s only twenty-three, for heaven’s sake!’

‘What’s age got to do with anything? Age is merely a number, that’s all. And he does have eyes for you. I saw it myself at the party on Tuesday night. Come on, admit it.’

‘Oh pooh,’ Annette exclaimed in a dismissive voice, not wishing to acknowledge the truth in what Marius was saying. That would only give him ammunition to tease her, or taunt her, as he was sometimes prone to do. It was another way to control her.

Laurie sat back, watching them, not daring to enter into this conversation. She knew it was wise to remain silent. She was only too well aware that Marius had always been extremely possessive of Annette, and jealous. There were times when Laurie had seen him watching her sister like a hawk, his face a mask of anger, if there was another man showing interest. Whenever she had mentioned his dreadful possessiveness, which seemed pathological to her, Annette had dismissed it vehemently. Nonetheless, there was a certain problem there, whatever Annette believed.

Marius stood up, went to fetch the bottle of champagne, and refilled their glasses, then took it back to the silver bucket. He stood there for a moment, his hand on the bottle, looking from his wife to his sister-in-law. Finally he said, ‘Listen, the two of you, I’ve just had an inspired idea. I think you should both go down to Kent tomorrow to that house of Christopher’s, his uncle’s huge pile. You’d enjoy the outing, Laurie, wouldn’t you? And Laurie would be company for you, Annette. I’ll tell you what, I’ll talk to Paddy on my way to the airport. I know he’ll be happy to drive you to Kent, wait and bring you back. Now what do you say about that, the two of you?’

Laurie was absolutely silent, frightened to speak.

Annette looked across at her sister and smiled. She said, in the most loving of voices, ‘Marius has just had a brilliant idea, Laurie. I’d love it if you would come with me. I wish I’d thought of it myself.’

‘Oh, honestly, I don’t know,’ Laurie answered quickly, staring at Annette. ‘Look, I don’t want to be in the way, you’re going there to work.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ll just be a nuisance, under your feet.’

‘No, you won’t, you’d be lovely company for me on the drive there and back, just as Marius said. Please say you’ll come.’ Annette sat back on the sofa, smiling at her sister, genuinely wanting her to make the trip. She had felt badly about cancelling their usual Saturday rendezvous, and it had never occurred

to her to ask Laurie to come to Kent with her. Now that Marius had suggested it, she thought it was a great idea. She laughed inwardly. Two can play this game. You think you pull the wool over my eyes, but you don’t. I’ve been married to you for nearly twenty-one years and I know you well. Better than anybody.

Laurie said softly, ‘If you really want me along, I’ll come. Of course I will.’ A smile touched her generous, pretty mouth. ‘For me it would be a great treat …’

‘Then it’s settled!’ Marius declared. He glanced over his shoulder when their housekeeper appeared in the doorway. ‘There you are, Elaine. I suppose lunch is ready?’

‘It is. A cheese soufflé. You’ve got to come. Before it drops.’

‘I’ve got my orders,’ he murmured.

And seemingly so have I. Annette took a deep breath, and then experienced a little frisson of annoyance. He could be so manipulative.

The house was called Knowle Court and it was located not far from Aldington in Kent. A long gravel drive led up to the house, skirted on either side by lines of tall, stately poplars, and it was the trees that gave the property a sense of dignity. They reminded Annette of France, where there was many a driveway just like this, trees standing sentinel in front of some grand château.

As if picking up on this thought, Laurie turned to her and said, ‘Have we crossed the Channel without me noticing and entered France? That’s what the trees are telling me.’

‘I know what you mean, but no, we’re still here in hop-growing country, and not very far from Noël Coward’s old home. Though I’m afraid Knowle Court doesn’t have the charm of Goldenhurst. Unfortunately.’

‘What a pity, I like that lovely Elizabethan house. So, what exactly did Christopher inherit from his uncle?’

‘A Jacobean pile of stone, turreted and moated, no less. More like a small castle, actually. Not my kind of place. I came here several times last summer and even then, on a sunny day, it seemed a bit … daunting. Oh, look, Laurie, there it is!’

Leaning forward, she said to Paddy, ‘There’s a circular drive up ahead, and Mr Delaware told me you should park near the drawbridge that leads to a big door.’

‘Right-o, Mrs Remmington.’

‘He also explained that you’re welcome to relax in the back parlour, read or watch television. And that the housekeeper will give you lunch later. It’s up to you.’