Rosamunde Pilcher - September

Violet thought, oh, dear God. She said, "Knew what, Virginia?"

"Knew that Edmund and Pandora Blair had been in love with each other. Had been lovers."

"And how did Lottie know this?"

"Because she was working at Croy at the time of Archie and Isobel's wedding. There was a dance that night, wasn't there? She said that she followed them upstairs in the middle of the party, and listened at Pandora's bedroom door. She said that Edmund was married and had a child, but that made no difference, because he was in love with Pandora. She said that everybody knew because it was so blatantly obvious. She said that they are still in love with each other, and that is why Pandora has come back."

It was even worse than Violet had dreaded, and for once in her life she found herself at a total loss for words. What could one say? What could one do to comfort? How to salvage a single grain of comfort from those muddy depths of scandal, stirred up by a madwoman who had nothing to do with her pathetic life but make trouble?

Across the small space that divided them, her eyes met Virginia's. And Virginia's were filled with pleading, because all she wanted was for Violet to assure her that the whole fabrication was a pack of lies.

Violet sighed. She said, with total inadequacy, "Oh dear."

"It's true then. And you did know."

"No, Virginia, we didn't know. We all had a pretty shrewd idea, but we didn't know, and we never spoke about it to each other, and we all went on behaving as though it had never happened."

"But why?" It was a cry of despair. "Why did you all shut me out? I'm married to Edmund. I'm his wife. How did you imagine that I wouldn't find out? And from that dreadful woman, of all people. It's a sort of betrayal, as though you didn't trust me. As though you thought I was some sort of innocent child, not old enough nor mature enough to deal with the truth."

"Virginia, how could we tell you? We didn't even know for certain. We simply suspected, and being the people that we are, we brushed it all away under the carpet and hoped that it would stay there. She was eighteen, and Edmund had known her since she was a child. But he'd been in London, and he'd married and had Alexa, and he hadn't seen Pandora for years. And then he came north for Archie's wedding, and there she was again. Not a child any longer but the most ravishing, wicked, delicious creature you've ever seen in your life. And I have an idea that she had always been in love with Edmund. When they met again, it was like an explosion of fireworks. We all saw the fireworks but we turned away and did not watch. There was nothing we could do except hope that the fireworks would burn themselves out. And it wasn't as though there was any chance of it going on for ever. Edmund had commitments in London. His wife, his child, his job. When the wedding was over, he went away, back to his own responsibilities."

"Did he go willingly?"

Violet shrugged. "With Edmund it's impossible to know. But I remember seeing him off, in his car, from Balnaid, and saying goodbye, and very nearly saying something more. Something ridiculous. Like 'I'm sorry' or 'Time is a great healer' or 'You'll forget Pandora,' but at the end of the day I lost my nerve and I never said anything."

"And Pandora?"

"She went into a sort of teen-age decline. Tears, sulks, misery. Her mother confided in me, and was in the greatest distress about it all, but truly, Virginia, what could we say? What could any of us do? I suggested sending Pandora away for a little… to do some sort of a course, or perhaps go to Paris or to Switzerland. At eighteen she was still very young in many ways, and some worthwhile project… learning a language or working with children… might have diverted her misery. Given her the chance to meet other young people and the chance to get over Edmund. But I'm afraid she'd always been most dreadfully spoilt, and in a strange way her mother was frightened of Pandora's tantrums. Whether anything was ever said, I don't know. All I do know is that Pandora simply hung around Croy for a month or two, making everybody's lives utterly miserable, and the next thing was she'd run off with that dreadful Harald Hogg, rich as Croesus and old enough to be her father. And that, tragically enough, was the end of Pandora."

"Until now."

"Yes. Until now."

"Were you concerned when you knew she was coming back?"

"Yes. A little."

"Do you think they are still in love with each other?"

"Virginia, Edmund loves you." Virginia said nothing to this. Violet frowned. "You surely know that."

"There are so many different sorts of love. And sometimes, when I really need it, Edmund doesn't seem to have it to give."

"I don't understand."

"He took Henry away from me. He said I smothered him. He said I only wanted to keep Henry because he was some sort of a possession, a toy I wanted to go on playing with. I begged and pleaded and finally had that dreadful row with Edmund, but nothing made any difference. It was like arguing with a brick wall. Brick walls don't love, Vi. That isn't love."

"I shouldn't say this, but 1 am on your side as far as Henry is concerned. However, he is Edmund's child, and I truly believe that Edmund is doing what he thinks best for Henry."

"And then this week he swanned off to New York, just when I really needed him here. Taking Henry to Templehall and leaving the poor little scrap was the worst thing I've ever had to do in the whole of my life."

"Yes," said Vi inadequately. "Yes, I know." They fell silent. Violet considered the miserable situation, went back in her mind on all they had been saying. And then realized that there was a small discrepancy. She said, "Virginia, all this happened on Monday. But you came to see me today. Has something else occurred?"

"Oh." Virginia bit her lip. "Yes. Yes, it has."

"Lottie again?" Violet scarcely dared to ask.

"Yes. Lottie. You see… Vi, you remember last Sunday, having lunch at Croy and all of us teasing Isobel about her house guest, the Sad American? Well, on my way back from Templehall, I stopped off at the King's Hotel to go to the loo, and I met him there. And I know him. I know him quite well. He's called Conrad Tucker and we used to play tennis together in Leesport, about twelve years ago."

This was about the most cheerful thing Violet had been told since Virginia appeared. She said, "But how very nice."

"Anyway, we had dinner together, and then it seemed silly, his staying in Relkirk when he was coming to Croy the next day, so he came back to Balnaid with me, and stayed there. I took him up to Croy this morning and left him with Archie. And then I went to Corriehill with some flower vases for Verena. And then I came home and I found Lottie in the kitchen."

"In the kitchen at Balnaid?"

"Yes. She was waiting for me. She told me… that last night she'd been at Balnaid, standing in the garden, in the dark and the rain, when Conrad and I came back. She watched us. Through the windows. None of the curtains were drawn. She watched us going upstairs…" Virginia met Violet's horrified gaze, opened her mouth and shut it again. Finally, she said, "She called me a whore. Called Conrad a fancy man. Raved on about lust and fornica' tion…"

"She is obsessed."

"She must go, or she will tell Edmund." Before Violet's eyes, Virginia all at once went to pieces, her face crumpling like a child's, tears brimming into her blue eyes and overflowing, streaming down her cheeks. "I can't bear any more, Vi. I can't bear everything being so horrible. She's like a witch, and she hates me so much… I don't know why she hates me…"

She groped for a handkerchief but could not find one, so Violet handed over her own, lawn and lace-trimmed and little use for damming such a flood of misery.