Diana spent the week in a frenzy of work. She was booked every day. Shopping – absurd, she knew, when she was moving to the shopping capital of the world, but it was a distraction – packing, arranging with Johnathan for Jamie to stay with her in the summer holidays, a few days in New York and then with Freddie’s family in Maine. ‘New York is vile in the summer, so hot. I’m spending a week in Sconsett with my parents and a couple of my cousins, the family has a house there, and they’d all love you and Jamie.’
He had turned out to be a really good friend, Diana thought. Friends really were a much better idea than lovers, much more constant and far less trouble. Who needed lovers, for God’s sake, she thought, crushing the thought of Leo and the terrible, devastating row they had had, saying the most appalling things to one another, dredged from defiance, from disbelief, from shock. After he had gone, assuring her he would never be back, she remained too angry to cry for over an hour. Then she wept, bitter, self-pitying tears; and when they had stopped, she became remorseful at the happiness she had so wantonly thrown away. Then, as the hours passed, she wondered if there might really have been happiness, if she could really have loved the man she now knew him to be, arrogant, egotistic, possessive. She half-expected him to return, to apologise, to say he understood; by the morning, she knew he never would; any more than she would go to him. It was over . . .
Tom and Alice had settled into a rather strained truce.
It was hard to make the reality live up to the wishful thinking of their future. Resolving to forgive, while utterly impossible to forget, was uncomfortable. They were polite, even nice to one another, but there it ended. As Alice said to Jillie, it needed some major event to bring them together again.
‘The only bright spot in the sky is that Charlie’s behaviour is improving. So life is a bit easier for me anyway. But Tom is quite depressed, more than I am; oddly, is talking about getting out of politics.’
‘What?’ said Jillie, genuinely horrified.
‘Yes, really. He says he failed to win Purbridge twice and that the business over Kit has made him rather unpopular with certain sectors of the party. Donald Herbert isn’t even speaking to him –’
‘Great toad,’ said Jillie.
‘I know. So he’s talking about going absolutely one hundred per cent into law, maybe even the bar –’
‘Well, that would be exciting, wouldn’t it?’
‘I suppose so, yes.’
Thursday evening saw Tom summoned to Transport House – to be told the astonishing news that the Purbridge MP had had his long-predicted heart attack, and was not expected to live.
‘So it’s a by-election, dreadful thought so soon after the general election, but here it is, your last chance of getting hold of Purbridge. We thought of finding a new candidate, but frankly, you didn’t do as badly as we all thought, that unfortunate business with your son considered. We’ll postpone it as long as we can. He’ll have to resign anyway, can’t be more than a matter of weeks.’
Wendelien had never, in the nearly two decades of their friendship, interfered in Diana’s life, beyond introducing her to Blanche Ellis Brown, which scarcely counted – and of course, trying and possibly succeeding to stop her telling Leo Bennett about Tom. But she watched Diana’s desperate, bright misery as she hurled happiness determinedly away and continued to pack and plan for her move to New York and knew she would never forgive herself if she didn’t try to do something to help. No use her taking on the task – the only hope lay in Ned Welles, who Diana had always regarded with enormous respect, as well as great fondness. Her hand shaking as she picked up the telephone, Wendelien dialled Ned’s number on the Thursday following Diana’s decision. There was no time to be lost: Diana flew out in eight days’ time.
Ned answered at once; she could hear music in the background, and when she began to stammer out her request, he asked if he could ring her back, he had a friend with him. Hating herself, Wendelien said yes, of course, but could it possibly be that evening, it was very important. Ned rather wearily agreed. It wasn’t until after eleven that he rang, and said he couldn’t be very long, he was very tired and he was operating all next day.
‘I promise it won’t take long. The conversation anyway. It’s about Diana – I think she’s making the most appalling mistake and I just terribly want to stop her.’
She kept it as brief as she could, horribly mindful of his weariness; when she had finished, he said, ‘Well, I don’t know,’ and she could hear the laughter in his voice. ‘Leo Bennett is a frightful bounder, she might be better off without him in the long run.’
‘Ned,’ said Wendelien. ‘I really think Diana is a match for any number of bounders. The difference is, she loves this one, she really does, I’ve never seen her like this, ever, and she says he loves her –’
‘And how many women do you think he’s said that to?’
‘Dozens, I daresay.’
‘Modest estimate.’
‘Well, anyway, I think this is different, for both of them, and if she wasn’t going away, I’d think it was best to let it all take its course. But once she’s gone, it really is over, and – oh, Ned, please talk to her.’
There was a silence, then he said, ‘All right, I’ll try. You know she’ll be absolutely furious with me, probably never speak to me again.’
‘I know she’ll be furious,’ said Wendelien, ‘but of course she’ll speak to you again. Thank you, Ned, very much. I’m so sorry to ask you.’
‘That was a lovely evening,’ said Jillie, ‘thank you so much, Ned. And I am truly so thrilled by your news. He sounds perfect and it’s lovely to see you so happy. I look forward to meeting him one day soon. And although it’s frustrating, of course, not knowing a bit more, like who he is –’ she grinned – ‘I do understand. You want to take it very carefully. Especially as he wants that too. ‘
‘Yes, he’s nervous, of course. Afraid of losing his job . . . as might I be, without your wonderful Uncle William.’
‘Of course. It’s so hard, so wrong.’ She sighed. ‘Just the same, I wish I had someone to take it carefully with. ‘
‘Oh Jillie, darling, darling Jillie, you’ll find someone. I know you will.’
‘Ned, I have found someone. Trouble is, he didn’t seem to want to find me. Oh, well. One day, perhaps.’
‘One day for sure.’
She looked at her watch. ‘Goodness, it’s late, I must go.’
‘I’ll get you a taxi.’
‘No, I’ve got my car. It’s just down the street.’
‘Then I’ll walk you to it.’
‘Ned, you are such a gentleman.’
She took his arm as they walked along the road, and just before she climbed into her car, kissed him.
‘Dear Ned,’ she said.
‘Thank you for that, Jillie. Thank you for everything. I still do love you, you know.’
She smiled. ‘As well as him?’
‘As well as him. You’re two very special people.’
‘Goodbye, Ned.’
‘Goodbye, Jillie.’
As she neared the corner of the King’s Road, she looked back at him in her driving mirror. He was walking down the middle of the street, clearly lost in deep, deep thought. And saw the next thing too: a car, coming round the corner too fast, carelessly confident in the silent late street, saw him, braked too late –
Neither Ned nor the car had a chance.
Chapter 68