The Four of Us (18 page)

The waiter broke in on her thoughts. ‘We have wild cherry soup today, madam,' he said, ‘or perhaps you would prefer the duck pâté as a starter?'

‘The wild cherry soup would be lovely,' she said, and then, so familiar with the menu that she didn't need further help, ‘and could I have the fish dumplings with dill sauce as my main course?'

‘You may indeed, madam.'

As Simon ordered bean soup, paprika chicken and a bottle of Merlot, she wondered if the waiter was aware that she and Simon were not father and daughter, nor uncle and niece, but lovers. Always, when they were out dining, she wanted to hold hands with Simon across the table; to make an outward display that would leave no doubt in the eyes of anyone seeing them that they were in love. Simon, though, would never be drawn into behaving in a way that might draw attention to their relationship – and to their age difference.

‘I've been thinking about the tête-à-tête I'm going to have with Kiki, Primmie,' he said when the waiter had retreated out of earshot. ‘And I've decided to postpone it for a week or two.'

‘Postpone it?' She stared at him, bewildered. ‘But why? I don't understand. You've bought me a ring and I want to wear it. I can't bear being with Geraldine, Artemis and Kiki, pretending that the two of us are just friends and nothing more. It makes me feel as if our being in love is something to be ashamed of – and it isn't.'

The wine waiter brought the bottle of Merlot to the table. Simon tasted it, waited until their glasses had been filled and then said gently, ‘I know how hard the situation is for you, Primmie, believe me I do, but what if Kiki doesn't react as we hope she will? What if there is a knock-on effect that will spoil other things?'

She laced her fingers together in her lap. ‘I'm sorry,' she said, fighting down a rising sense of panic. ‘I don't understand. A knock-on effect on what? What difference is there in telling her at the weekend when she arrives home and telling her in a few weeks'time? The sooner we tell her, the sooner we can tell everyone else, and people are going to be happy for us. There aren't going to be any problems. Why should there be? And what are the other things you think could possibly be spoiled?'

‘There's the wedding.'

‘The wedding? Our wedding?'

‘No,' he said patiently. ‘Geraldine's wedding. That's why Geraldine and Francis have come home, isn't it? To get married?'

‘Yes, But I don't see …'

‘And both you and Kiki are to be bridesmaids?'

‘Yes, but—'

‘And if Kiki isn't as rapturous about our engagement as you think she will be, then it will make for a difficult atmosphere when you are bridesmaids at Geraldine's wedding and that would be grossly unfair to Geraldine. So I think it best that …'

The waiter approached their table again and served them with their first course.

Ignoring it, as Simon ignored his, Primmie said, ‘But Kiki
isn't
going to have problems about our becoming engaged. She's the most
liberated
person I know. She's … she's …' she struggled as to how best to convey to him that where sexual relationships were concerned, his daughter was an ‘anything goes'liberal whose sex life was promiscuously free-wheeling. It wasn't something that could be said without causing him a great deal of hurt.

She said instead, ‘Kiki is a major pop star – and pop stars aren't conventional and they don't have old-style values. When you tell her about us she'll simply roll her eyes to heaven and ask if we want her to sing at the reception.'

He gave a faint smile. ‘I wish I could believe that, sweetheart, but I don't. I know you're her friend, but I'm her father. I know a side to her you've never seen. Behind her couldn't-careless attitude to life, Kiki is deeply insecure and, for reasons I don't understand, I'm responsible for that. She was deeply traumatized when Eva set up home with Jenny Reece and, unlike you, I think there's a chance our news will affect her the same way.'

Primmie pressed her lips together tightly. Even as a teenager she had never been able to understand why he took so much upon himself where Kiki was concerned. And he was wrong in thinking Kiki had been traumatized over her mother's relationship with Jenny Reece. Kiki had been shocked – not an easy thing to achieve – but it had been a shock she had soon come to terms with. Spelling this all out to him would, though, be pointless. He simply wouldn't believe her and they would end up having an argument that would distress them both.

Knowing that unless she took their conversation on to dangerous ground she was going to have to accept the decision he had made, she said, ‘And you'll tell her immediately after the wedding?'

Hearing the flicker of fear in her voice he leaned across the table towards her. ‘Immediately,' he said reassuringly. ‘I love you, Primmie. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you. Never doubt that. Promise?'

‘I promise.' Her voice was thick with emotion. ‘And I love you with all my heart, Simon.'

A shadow fell across them. ‘Excuse me, sir.' The waiter looked concerned. ‘Your soup is all right, yes? There isn't a problem?'

Primmie felt a near hysterical giggle rise in her throat.

‘Everything is fine.' Simon's eyes held hers. ‘I and my fiancée are just taking our time over things, that's all.'

It was the first time he had ever acknowledged their relationship in public.

Primmie's cheeks flushed rosily, all her anxieties quelled. She had waited two years from first knowing she was in love with him to their becoming lovers. A further two weeks of secrecy until their engagement was announced was going to make no difference to their life together. Free of any sense of impending catastrophe, she turned her attention to her wild cherry soup.

The next morning she was sick. Hoping she wasn't about to go down with gastric flu or a viral infection, she drank a glass of lemon barley water and hurried off to work.

‘Buses up the creek as usual?' Howard said sympathetically as she made an entrance at the agency, twenty minutes late.

‘No. Tummy bug. Nothing to worry about.'

Throwing her jacket over the back of her chair, she glanced down at her diary. ‘Is everything in place for this morning's eleven o'clock meeting in the conference room, or is it still to do?'

‘It's all in place, but it won't do any harm to give everything a once-over – and check that Creative have got their act together. I'd like Steve to run his story board past me one more time before I do the pitch to the client – and make sure that when Bayers arrive there's lashings of hot coffee.'

Later, once again at her own desk, she studied the list she had made for herself the night before and began on the most urgent of her phone calls. She had just finished chasing Production for proofs she was waiting for when the phone rang.

‘Yes?' she said peremptorily, hoping to goodness the Production boys weren't phoning to say that the proofs were lost.

‘Primmie, thank
God
I've made contact with you!' It was Artemis, and as Artemis tended to be theatrical Primmie didn't immediately assume that there was a disaster. ‘I was petrified you wouldn't be in the agency,' Artemis continued as if it was an absolute miracle that she was even in the country. ‘I thought you'd be out, wining and dining a client.'

‘At ten in the morning? And only account directors get to do the wining and dining bit – though I had lunch in Soho yesterday, with Simon.'

‘Simon?' Artemis sounded bewildered. ‘Kiki's father?'

‘The same.' Primmie kept her voice light, determined not to become irritated just because Artemis hadn't reacted as she would have liked on hearing Simon's name.

‘That was very sweet of you,' Artemis said, as if having lunch with Simon was an act of kindness. ‘Is he retired now?'

Primmie's good intentions went to the wind. ‘No,' she said vehemently, ‘Simon is
not
retired. He's only forty-two and he's a very attractive man.'

‘Oh!' Disconcerted by her reaction, Artemis's bewilderment deepened. ‘Well, yes,' she said uncertainly, quite obviously trying to be placating. ‘If you say so, Primmie.'

Primmie bit back another sharp retort and, signing off a set of proofs, said, ‘What's the emergency? I haven't much time to chat, Artemis.' She tossed the proofs into her out-tray and turned her attention to some artwork for her cosmetic account.

‘Geraldine's mother rang me this morning to say that my matron of honour dress and Kiki's and your bridesmaids'dresses are ready for their final fitting. She knows how difficult it is for you to get time off work and so has arranged that we all three go to the dressmakers together, on Saturday afternoon.'

‘Kiki doesn't get back from Australia till Saturday morning. And what is going to happen to fittings for the wedding dress? Geraldine isn't back till some time next week.'

‘Tell me about it,' Artemis said dryly. ‘How she can leave
all
the wedding preparations to her mother is beyond my understanding. It isn't as if it's going to be a small wedding. It's going to be huge.' She paused slightly. ‘Even bigger than my wedding was.'

Dutifully Primmie came in on cue. ‘Nothing could be bigger than that, Artemis. Or more beautiful.'

‘It
was
beautiful, wasn't it?' she said dreamily. ‘And the bridesmaids'dresses were so much prettier than the ones Geraldine has chosen for us. I know Geraldine has unusual taste when it comes to clothes – but narrow-skirted gowns in gun-metal grey silk aren't very bridal.'

Primmie grinned. The dresses she, Kiki and Geraldine had worn at Artemis's wedding at St Margaret's, Westminster had been confections of layer after layer of pale peach organdie sprigged with tiny embroidered roses and seed pearls, the crinoline skirts so wide it had been all they could do to squeeze down the aisle. Persuading Kiki into hers had been a major achievement.

‘I must go, Artemis,' she said, catching sight of Howard pointing frantically to his watch. ‘I'll see you Saturday. Should we go to the dressmakers separately or meet up first?'

‘We'll meet up first. I'll pick you up at the flat.'

‘Fine. Bye.' Hastily she tossed proofs and artwork she hadn't yet checked back into her in-tray and left her desk, heading off in Howard's wake towards the conference room. Artemis wasn't often right about things, but she had a point where the bridesmaids'dresses were concerned. Gun-metal grey
was
an unusual choice of colour – but Geraldine's sense of style was unerring and their silver-grey dresses, set off by posies of white roses, would, she was sure, look sensational.

When Artemis arrived at the flat early Saturday afternoon she looked as washed-out as Primmie felt.

‘What's the matter,' she asked as Artemis put the MG into gear, heading for Kensington High Street. ‘Have you got a touch of gastric flu as well?'

‘Flu?' The car veered slightly. ‘No, of course I haven't. And what do you mean “as well”? You're not ill, are you, Primmie?'

‘No. I'm not ill. I just keep feeling a little queasy.'

Artemis, who was usually full of concern if people were even the teeniest bit under the weather, didn't respond. Primmie looked across at her. Artemis was, as always, immaculately made-up, but, as well as looking ill, she looked as if she had been crying.

Waiting until the nightmare of the traffic in Kensington High Street was behind them and they were in the marginally less congested area of Fulham, she said hesitantly, ‘Are you sure you're OK, Artemis? There's nothing wrong, is there?'

Artemis made an odd sound in her throat and Primmie wasn't sure if it was a cough or a stifled sob.

A motorbike veered in front of them and Artemis avoided running into him – but only just.

‘Is it the bridesmaids'dresses?' Primmie persisted, knowing that with Artemis, anything was possible. ‘You're not seriously upset about having to wear grey, are you?'

This time there was no mistaking the sound that Artemis made. It was definitely a stifled sob.

‘It's Rupert!' she said, tears beginning to run down her face. ‘I so want a baby and he told me last night that I mustn't keep on about wanting to be pregnant.'

‘Well, you have only been married for a year. I suppose he thinks it's a bit soon …'

‘No. No, it's not that, Primmie. It's …' Uncaring of the right of way of the traffic around her, she cut across the busy inside lane and brought the sports car to an abrupt halt on a No Parking spot. ‘It's because he says I
can't
become pregnant!' She was sobbing in earnest now, her words coming in gasps. ‘He had mumumps when he was twenty-one and ever since he's been ste-sterile – and he didn't tell me! He ma-married me and didn't tell me that I wouldn't be able to have children! Can you believe that, Primmie? Can you
believe
it?'

Kiki looked out of the plane window and viewed the hotch-potch of green fields and scatterings of red-brick houses with relief. Ten more minutes and she'd be on the tarmac at Heathrow. She stared down at what, at a rough guess, was the outskirts of Slough.

Part of her couldn't wait to be back in the Kensington flat with Primmie – but there were going to be problems. Primmie hadn't a clue about the kind of lifestyle led by people in the music business. She'd never been happy about having marijuana in the flat. A bathroom cabinet full of uppers and downers would cause huge ructions. As for cocaine … cocaine would be a complete no-no. She chewed the corner of her lip. She could book into a hotel and look round London for a flat of her own, but living on her own held no appeal whatsoever. After two months on the road, she needed her friends around her – and Primmie was a friend in the very fullest sense of the word, as were Artemis and Geraldine.