Hypnotized(25)

‘Don’t push me away,’ she begged.

I closed my eyes. The music had stopped and a thick heavy silence hung between us. All the things I wanted to say and the things buried inside her. She knew me not at all. I wanted to crush her in my arms and keep her next to me forever. I never wanted her to leave. There was such a pleasure in her proximity. To feel her breathe, to touch her soft skin, to smell the clean scent of her hair. I clenched my teeth. ‘You have to go. Your clothes must be ready by now.’ The words tumbled out of me, harsh and angry.

She went still. Then her hands slipped away from my arm. The music player clicked on again and Last Mistake came on.

‘While you were sleeping I was drinking,’ a man’s voice crooned.

I stood up and looked down at her. Her hair was wet and stuck to her head, her nose was red and my old bathrobe was a shapeless blob around her, but she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

‘By the way,’ she said listlessly, ‘Ivana has invited you to stay the weekend at Marlborough Hall. You can bring someone if you like.’





Marlborough Hall





12



Marlow


The fish, even in the fisherman’s net, still carries the smell of the sea.

—Mourid Barghouti


Marlborough Hall had been built for one purpose and one purpose only—to dazzle. And to that monumental mission every stone in it was utterly committed. Its vast mass of rusticated granite soared, towered, and sprawled before us as we turned through a pair of imposing stone piers, topped with winged bronze chimera.

‘Oh my God. Look at that!’ Beryl cried as she dramatically fanned herself with her hands.

I stopped the Jag and we sat for a moment looking at the lighted splendor that had been the seat of the Swanson family for the last three hundred years. I thought it an ostentatious fortress and the unfriendliest place I had ever seen, but when I glanced at Beryl, I realized she was as horribly enthralled and fascinated by the naked display of power and wealth, as a rat would be in the face of a striking snake. All I could think of was that somewhere in that hostile pile of stones a pale plant called Olivia was struggling to thrive.

‘OK, I’m ready,’ Beryl said more calmly.

I started the car and we drove down a wide gravel drive. We crunched to a halt next to an antique Rolls-Royce.

‘Isn’t this marvelous?’ Beryl whispered excitedly.

‘That remains to be seen,’ I said dryly.

‘What about the hamper? Do we take it in?’ she asked, referring to the hamper of food she had ordered from Fortnum & Mason. She was convinced it was where posh people got their food.

‘I’m sure someone will come and collect it together with our overnight bags.’

‘Of course, silly me. They have servants, don’t they? I hope I don’t make a total fool of myself tonight,’ Beryl said worriedly.

‘You’ll be fine. If you get nervous just think of them sitting on the toilet.’

Beryl laughed heartily. ‘That’s very useful.’

‘Shall we?’ I asked, my hand on the door handle.

She touched my sleeve. ‘Before we go in, I just want to thank you again for asking me to come with you.’

‘I couldn’t survive it without you, Beryl.’

She beamed with pleasure.

‘Come on,’ I said, putting a foot out of the car. ‘Let’s see how the other half live.’

With impeccable timing the massive doors of the house opened and a liveried footman came out to help us. I refused his offer of help with my overnight case, so he made himself useful by carrying Beryl’s small suitcase and the hamper.

A man in a butler’s uniform complete with spotless white gloves respectfully greeted us in an echoing cold, gray, stone hallway. In a broad Northern accent he informed us that drinks would be served in the Green Saloon in an hour’s time. The footman left the hamper on a stand nearby and led us down a short walkway hung with large tapestries toward a gargantuan, double-storied chamber. It had a balustraded gallery around all four sides and its walls were lined with full-length portraits of the family, no doubt executed by the great masters.

‘Goodness me, I feel quite touched by the golden wand,’ Beryl said in a stage whisper. Her eyes were wide.

‘Hmmm…’

We followed the footman up a grand marble staircase with a red runner carpet, and down a narrow corridor. He stopped outside a door and respectfully said, ‘Here we are.’

He opened it, and upon entering the room, stood back to allow us to fully appreciate our lodgings. It was a large paneled room that had been prepared for our arrival. The lamps were lit, there was a fire roaring in the fireplace and a vase with flowers on a table. It smelt of fresh linen. And on the antique, canopied four-poster bed, towels and bars of soap were laid out.