Alice Adams: Invincible Summer

Was Eva mistaken, or had Marina cast a twinkling look in her direction?

‘Indeed,’ agreed Hugo. ‘And one does so need a bolt-hole to escape the unwashed hordes every now and then. Far from the madding crowd and all that.’

Eva responded with a non-committal smile. She wasn’t wholly confident that if the world was divided up into the Hugos and the unwashed hordes that she herself wouldn’t fall into the latter category, and was relieved to spot Benedict making his way back across the terrace towards them.

‘I see you’ve met Dad,’ he said as he joined them.

‘Well, sort of,’ said Eva, blushing as she realized she hadn’t actually introduced herself.

‘Oh, silly me for not doing the introductions,’ said Marina. ‘This old curmudgeon is Hugo, dear,’ and then, turning to her husband, she continued, ‘and Benedict’s young lady here is Eva.’

‘Ah, I’m not exactly Benedict’s young lady, we’re more, you know, friends,’ Eva said as she shook Hugo’s proffered hand and felt her cheeks further redden.

‘Bloody hell, just ignore them,’ muttered Benedict. ‘They marry me off to every girl I so much as glance at. It’s supposed to be an old family tradition that the Waverleys marry young, but they’ve got more chance with Harry than me. Come on, let’s go for a swim before they start planning the nuptials.’

‘Better unpack and grab my bathing suit,’ Eva said, glad to be extricated from the situation but cursing Benedict silently for his false assurances.

‘Eleni’s already unpacking for you,’ he told her. ‘She’s the housekeeper and she’ll do all of that while you’re here. Woe betide you if you attempt to put her out of a job by making so much as a sandwich for yourself. Come on, I’ll show you where your room is.’

*

Her ‘room’ turned out to be more of a suite, composed of a capacious bedroom, a dressing room big enough to comfortably house a sofa and several wardrobes, and a generous bathroom with a free-standing tub in front of French doors looking out towards the sea.

Eva stood and boggled at her surroundings. ‘Sweet Jesus, Benedict. This is what you’ve meant all this time by your family’s holiday pad? Not exactly a flat in Benidorm, is it? I mean, I’ve always known that you weren’t a pauper but seriously, just look at this place.’

Benedict shuffled his feet awkwardly. ‘Well, obviously property doesn’t cost half as much here as in England.’

Watching him squirm it suddenly all made sense: the reason that Benedict had never invited her to his home despite visiting her in Sussex several times during university holidays was not that he was embarrassed by her but by his own background, which was apparently far more opulent than the others had imagined even in their wildest flights of speculation. Eva found herself feeling somewhat sympathetic; Lucien was already prone to calling him Gatsby, and he would have a field day if he could see this place.

An awful thought occurred to her. ‘Shit, what am I going to wear?’ She grimaced at the memory of Marina in her crisp white linen dress and silver butterfly necklace. ‘Look at these cushions, and this bedding, and these sofas. The entire place is colour-coordinated. It’s all white and. . what would you even call that? Taupe?’

‘I know, terrifyingly tasteful, isn’t it? My mother’s in her element here. She likes to think of herself as dreadfully modern, so she considers it a welcome escape from all the mahogany furniture and gilt mirrors at home, the old family stuff that my father would never dream of parting with.’

‘It’s impeccably, immaculately tasteful,’ Eva agreed, thinking of the peeling lino at home and feeling faint with embarrassment at what Benedict must have made of her determinedly unsophisticated father. ‘But the point is, I flew hand-luggage only and here’s what I packed: a swimsuit, a pair of jeans, some T-shirts and an acid yellow sundress with two of the buttons missing. Oh God, I bet your parents have dinner in top hats and ball gowns.’

‘Nah, don’t you know understatement’s where the real money’s at?’ teased Benedict. ‘Seriously, don’t worry about it. Your sundress will be fine, no one will care. Besides, Harry’s arriving later with his girlfriend. Sit next to her and I guarantee that whatever you wear, you’ll look like a nun.’

*

On this point at least, Benedict was as good as his word. Harry and Carla made their entrance at dusk in a whirlwind of kisses and handshakes, half-hugs and backslaps, so that it somehow seemed as if ten people had arrived instead of two. They swept off to their room to change for supper, leaving Eva with the impression of a more solid version of Benedict and a lissom, barely clothed goddess.

Examining the pair more closely as everyone gathered on the terrace for dinner, Eva was struck most by the uniformity of their skin. They both appeared unnaturally smooth and unblemished. Were there really humans without a single freckle or mole? And Carla’s limbs — her legs flowed for miles from shorts so short they could reasonably be referred to as hot pants. There wasn’t even the usual consolation of tall, slim girls being flat-chested and sexless; Carla’s gravity-defying breasts threatened to escape their orange halterneck at every dip and sway.

It was impossible for Eva not to feel dumpy in her old sundress, held together by several safety pins rustled up after a desperate plea to Eleni, but then, she comforted herself, it didn’t really matter, at least not in the way it would have if Lucien had been there. She could just picture him leaning in towards Carla with a predatory smile, as much a feat of memory as imagination, having watched him do just that with what seemed like an infinite number of girls in countless bars over the years. Benedict, on the other hand, seemed more amused than anything by Carla’s indecorous outfit, while his father appeared intensely appreciative, surveying the acres of exposed flesh with the manner of someone savouring a fine painting. Marina gave every impression of having failed to even notice Carla’s near-nudity, bathing her in the same gracious warmth she had bestowed on Eva when she’d arrived.

‘Eva, you simply must try the souvlaki,’ she urged as they sat down at the candle- and flower-strewn table on the terrace. ‘It’s Eleni’s specialty, she makes it with swordfish.’

‘Ah,’ said Eva, shooting a furious look at Benedict. ‘Did Benedict forget to tell you that I’m a vegetarian?’

‘Oh, one of the Latter Day Saints lot, you mean?’ boomed Hugo. ‘With the funny underpants? I met a chap like that at the Athenaeum a while back. Queer sort of a fellow actually, but I’m sure you’re not all that way.’

‘No, darling, that’s not what she means at all,’ said Marina. ‘She’s not a cult member, it’s more like being a sort of hippy. Don’t mind him, Eva,’ she continued, placing a restraining hand on her husband’s arm. ‘He’s not very modern. I don’t mind telling you that I once danced naked around Stonehenge on the summer solstice myself. Well, it was the Sixties,’ she continued in response to Benedict and Harry’s appalled stares. ‘Everyone was doing that sort of thing back then.’ She turned to Eva. ‘Now, why don’t you try some of these meatballs? They’re simply divine.’

*

Benedict lay face down on his lounger next to the pool and peered at Eva through the crack in his eyelids. The sun was too bright to open them any wider, and besides, it was a great opportunity to scrutinize her in a swimsuit unnoticed. Make the most of it, he told himself. Their week together was almost over; her flight was the following day and he didn’t even know when he’d next see her, let alone in a bathing costume. What exquisite agony it was to let his eyes roam over her body, especially on a rare occasion when she appeared to be lying there unselfconsciously. All week she’d seemed to be hiding under a towel or pulling her dress on just to go from the pool to the bathroom. Was she making sure he didn’t get any ideas, or did she genuinely not know how beautiful she was?