Cooper Jilly - Emily

A week went by. I corrected the proofs of the catalogue for Rory’s exhibition. He was painting frantically; wild, swirling, self-absorbed canvases of savage intensity: babies with no arms or legs, feeling their way into life; the agonized features of women giving birth. They were ghastly, hideous paintings but of staggering power. For the first time it occurred to me that Rory might have minded my losing the baby.

He was like a mine-field: one would inadvertently tread on him and he’d explode and smoulder for hours. He was always worse after the times Finn came to see me.

Each time I found Finn increasingly more remote. I couldn’t even talk to him because Rory stayed in the room all the time, scowling. It was horribly embarrassing.

Then one night I woke up to find Rory standing by the bed. The fire was dying in the grate. Outside the window the sea gleamed like a python.

‘W-what’s the matter?’ I said nervously.

‘I’ve finished the last painting.’

I sat up sleepily. ‘How clever you are. Have you been working all night?’

He nodded. There were great black smudges under his eyes.

‘You must be exhausted.’

‘A bit. I thought we ought to celebrate.’

He poured champagne into two glasses.

‘What time is it?’ I said.

‘About five-thirty.’

I took a gulp of champagne. It was icy cold and utterly delicious.

‘We ought to be sitting on a bench in a rose garden, after a Common Ball,’ I said with a giggle. ‘You in an evening shirt all covered in my lipstick, and me in a bra-strap dinner frock and a string of pearls.’

He laughed and sat down on the bed. Suddenly I was as jumpy as a cat in his presence — it was as if I were a virgin and he and I had never been to bed together.

He leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair back from my forehead — and it happened. Shocks, rockets, warning bells, the lot, and I knew, blindly, that the old magic was working and I was utterly hooked on him again. Emily the pushover — lying in the gutter with a lion standing over her.

Rory, however, seemed unaware of the chemical change that had taken place in me.

‘Oughtn’t you to get some sleep?’ I said.

‘I’ve got to pack up the canvases,’ he said. ‘Buster’s taking them down to London in his plane.’ Then he said, not looking at me, ‘He’s giving me a lift to Edinburgh.’

Panic swept over me. It was Thursday. Marina’s singing lesson day. Oh, God, oh, God, Rory was obviously going to meet her.

‘What are you going to Edinburgh for?’ I said in a frozen voice.

‘To see an American about an exhibition in New York. And a couple of press boys want to talk to me about the London exhibition.’

‘When are you coming back?’ I said.

‘Tonight. My mother’s giving a party for my aunt. She’s arriving from Paris this evening — you’re invited. I think you should come. They’re pretty amazing, my aunt and my mother, when they get together. It’d do you good to get out.’

I lay back in bed trying to stop myself crying. Rory bent over and kissed me on the forehead.

‘Try and get some more sleep,’ he said.

Mrs Mackie, our daily woman, came to look after me while he was away. Her gossiping nearly drove me insane. I washed my hair and shut myself away in the studio to get away from her.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

‘Someone to see you,’ said Mrs Mackie.

And Marina walked in.

I felt weak with relief, as though a great thorn had been pulled out of my side. So Rory hadn’t gone to Edinburgh to see her. I wanted to fling my arms round her neck.

‘Hello,’ I said, grinning from ear to ear.

She seemed shattered by the warmth of my reception.

‘Are you going to Coco’s party tonight? Hamish wants to, but I’m not sure if I can face it.’

‘Oh, I am,’ I said, suddenly feeling I wanted to sing from the rooftops. ‘It should be a giggle — if Coco’s sister’s anything like her.’

Marina looked terrible. Her eyes were hidden behind huge amber sunglasses, her face chalky. She looked like someone who was shaking off gastric ’flu.

‘Are you all right?’ I said suddenly, feeling sorry for her.

‘Not very,’ she said. ‘I’m suffering from a broken heart. Can I have a drink?’

I gave her a huge slug of Rory’s whisky. She looked at the golden liquid for a minute, then said: ‘Has Rory said anything about me?’

I shook my head.

‘Oh, God.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘I’ve spent days and days waiting for the Master to ring, but the Master did not ring. He obviously doesn’t wish to avail himself of the service.’

‘Are you still… well, crazy about him?’

‘Of course I am!’ she screamed, her eyes suddenly wild. ‘And he’s crazy about me. Nothing will ever cure that.’

I didn’t flinch — I was making great strides in self-control these days.

‘He’s crazy about me, but he feels guilty about you losing the baby. He thinks you’ve had a lousy deal, so he’s got to grit his teeth and try and make a go of it.’

‘Charming,’ I said, combing and combing my wet hair. She took off her dark glasses. Her eyes were suddenly alight with malevolence.

‘Look, you don’t love Rory a millionth as much as I do. You wouldn’t be playing around with Finn if you did. Finn’s crazy about you, and he’s a much better proposition than Rory is, he’s straight and utterly dependable. You’re not tricky enough for Rory, he needs someone who can play him at his own game. You drive him round the bend.’

‘It’s absolutely mutual,’ I said acidly.

‘All you’ve got to do is go to Finn,’ said Marina.

‘Why doesn’t he come and take me away?’ I said. ‘He’s got a car.’

‘Because he’s had a rough time; he’s had one broken marriage, and when he wanted you to leave Rory before you wouldn’t go. He wants you to come of your own free will.’

‘How idealistic,’ I said, sulkily. ‘For someone who throws his weight around as much as Finn does, he’s very diffident when it comes to sex.’

‘He doesn’t want to go through hell again, he’s got the hospital to consider, and if you don’t hurry, Dr Barrett will snap him up. Anyway, can’t you realize that if Rory wasn’t my brother, he’d drop you like a hot coal?’

Suddenly her face crumpled and she burst into tears. ‘I can’t stand Hamish any more,’ she sobbed. ‘You don’t know what it’s like waking up to that awful old face on the pillow every morning.’

I turned away with a sense of utter weariness. I felt as though I’d been struggling for hours up a hill, and just as I reached the top, my hold had given way and I was pitching headlong into darkness.

After she’d gone, I told Mrs Mackie to go home. I couldn’t stand her chatter any more.

Half an hour later, Finn’s car drew up outside. I watched him get out and lock it. What the hell did he have to lock it for round here, I thought irritably. There was no-one to pinch any dangerous drugs, except a few sheep.

‘Go away,’ I said miserably to Finn, refusing to open the door.

‘Five minutes,’ he said.

‘What for?’ I said.

‘I don’t like unfinished business.’

‘Is there unfinished business?’

‘Come on, stop messing about, let me in.’

‘Oh all right,’ I said, sulkily, opening the door. He followed me into the drawing-room.

‘Do you want a drink?’ I said.

‘No, I want you,’ he ran his hands through his hair, ‘I haven’t been able to get you on your own since Rory took over.’ He looked almost as bad as Marina. Deep lines were entrenched around his mouth and his eyes. He seemed to have aged ten years in as many days.

‘You haven’t tried very hard,’ I said.

‘I’ve been run off my feet — two men from the petrol ship died last night, another early this morning.’

‘Oh I’m so sorry,’ I said, horrified, ‘did they suffer a lot?’

‘Yep,’ said Finn. ‘It hasn’t been very pleasant at the hospital — in fact it’s been hell.’

‘Did you get any extra help from the mainland?’ I said.

‘I’ve got another doctor arriving this evening — at least it’ll give Jackie a break, she’s been marvellous.’

‘I’m sure she has,’ I said. ‘Oh dear, she’s far more suitable for you than I am.’

‘Maybe she is,’ said Finn, ‘but it happens to be you that I love. You certainly need more looking after than she does; what the hell are you wandering about with bare feet and wet hair for?’ He picked up a towel. ‘Come on, I’ll dry it for you.’

‘No, it’ll go all fluffy.’ Finn took no notice. Christ, he rubbed hard.

‘I won’t have any scalp left,’ I grumbled.

After that, the inevitable happened and I ended up in his arms, and I must confess that I did like kissing him very much. It was one of the great all-time pleasures, like smoked salmon and Brahms’ second piano concerto. Then I started getting nervous that Rory might walk in, so I wriggled out of his grasp.

‘Who told you Rory was away?’ I said.

‘Marina did.’

‘She has been busy,’ I said. ‘She was here earlier telling me how much she and Rory still love each other, and how noble Rory had been coming back to me.’

‘Rory,’ said Finn, kicking a log on the fire, ‘has never done anything noble in his life. This little display of territorial imperative is sheer bloody-mindedness because he doesn’t want me to get you. It’s only me he’s jealous about. Did he ever give a damn when Calen Macdonald made a pass at you?’

‘No,’ I said, plunging back into the depths of gloom.