Chapter 44. A New Life
Candi admitted everything. According to the newspapers, who disclosed much more than the police, “Scorned Girlfriend Plots to Confront Wife.” According to Candi, her plan was to “talk” to Scarlet “where she couldn’t get away,” but Miss Bottomley started screaming when Candi entered the house and “I couldn’t shut her up.” Mrs. Pourfoyle was indicted for “Malice murder” – a capital offense. The murder weapon – brought by Candi all the way up from Wyvern House – was a table leg she used as a club. Candi’s husband was standing by her. “Husband Claims Home-wrecking Cad Manipulated Lovelorn Girl.” Did Ian really want Scarlet dead? That was David’s argument! Would Ian be indicted? How long would the generous, the fantastical, the life-altering disposition of Miss Bottomley’s estate remain private knowledge? For these reasons and many more it was no surprise to receive a call from Pelham. “Ian wants to sign the divorce agreement we propose, without changes.” “Well, that’s a relief.” “He’s worried about being indicted for “transferred malice murder.’ “You mean they think he suggested killing me to Candi? I’ll never believe that.” “The press is painting him as a lady-killer. He’s concerned about losing his job. A quick divorce removes his motive and makes him an eligible bachelor.” Eligible Ian. Didn’t women flock to “lady-killers”, no matter what devastating facts they knew? Perhaps, thought Scarlet with her newly-acquired cynicism, they flocked BECAUSE of the “devastating facts.” Doesn’t every woman long to reform a roué? Horribly, I did, thought Scarlet. I fell for that. But she was a different person now. Still, the world thronged with eager victims. Ian wouldn’t be alone for long. “When’s he going to sign?” “It’s contingent on meeting you alone. I told them it would have to be at our offices.’ “All right.” “Wear your police whistle.” Could Pelham be serious? Surely Ian wouldn’t try anything violent – but she knew he would expect to touch her. She knew him that well. “Are you serious?” “I’m very serious. If you don’t bring it, we’ll have to bell you like a cat.” “I’ll bring it. If he signs, where are we?” “Then we get a decree nisi, which is provisional for one year. They usually rush these things through to get it out of the papers but it depends on the judge. Every now and then you get a Huey.” “What’s that?” “It’s Bob’s and my shorthand for an impossible judge. I must say the publicity makes this very unlikely.” “Why’s that?” “It’s an open secret that everyone hates our divorce laws. Literally everyone. They’re just on the verge of either breakdown or reform.” Scarlet shuddered. So many things you didn’t think of when you stood before the altar, wide-eyed and innocent! “I’ll bring the whistle,” she promised. She took care to wear it well-concealed. No point red-ragging Ian. She had never figured out his level of self-control. Was everything he did well-planned, or was he ruled by a raging id? Well, thought Scarlet, I don’t care. I don’t have to care. She imagined a future of trying to explain to Nick by Daddy did the things he did. Why he wasn’t like Pom. Adorable, sensitive, reliable Pom, who talked things out, who listened, who cared. Who changed, day by day, evolving to love better. To live better. Ian looked different. Older, battered, his eyes bloodshot. Scarlet thought she smelled whisky underneath the cigarettes. Was he drinking every morning now, or was it just because he was seeing her? His suit hung on him in a peculiar manner, as if he had given up on real nourishment. He and his solicitor, Mr. Jellicoe, could have been a vaudeville act – one so fat and the other starving-lean. Mr. Jellicoe seemed very obliging and impressed with his surroundings. He shook damp hands all around. Ian looked at Scarlet with deep hunger. I’m the one who “got away”, she thought. The only one. She was glad of the whistle. They were guided to the Partners’ Room. At ten in the morning, no sherry was on offer. Ian refused everything, even water. Scarlet accepted a cup of tea to have something to do with her hands, until she noticed they were trembling. She set her teacup down hastily. Pelham made a point of seating them at opposite ends of the table. He closed the door softly. Ian began. “Scarlet, I want to let you know how sorry I am.” He waited for a moment as if to allow her to speak. But what could she say? She had already decided not to be accusatory. When he was her ex-husband and the “occasional” father of her child perhaps they could concoct a relationship. At the moment, the situation was hopelessly fraught. He spoke again. “I never guessed…what she’d do. I didn’t listen to her natterings.” There went her resolve about accusations. She was just too angry. “The joke is on all of us. Poor Candi wanted to be treated like a wife without realizing how cruel you are when you’re sure of someone. You ignore them, you devalue them. You fobbed her off with lies while you went your smug and merry way. I think you secretly enjoyed making her crazy. I think you wanted to see just how crazy she would get. Makes it easier to get rid of them, doesn’t it?” She half-expected him to fire up but he hung his head. “Don’t compare yourself with her. You’re nothing like.” She could see the oil bubbling beneath his surface. He wished to flatter her, fawn on her, throw himself on her mercy. He was testing a way in. She should never have started this. Any game with Ian was just too dangerous. She summed up as best she could, “No one likes being lied to.” He rose. “You’re right, I’m wrong. I managed everything badly. I want to turn over a new leaf.” She rose as well, feeling a bit panicky. Was he planning to chase her around the table. “There’s Nick,” she said finally. “Of course, there’s Nick. But we won’t be together – with him – all the time.” Creepy! She summoned up her strength. “I don’t see that. I’m afraid we have little in common.” “How can that be? Don’t you remember the two young Oxford students working on St. Euphrosyne, with all our hopes and dreams and ambitions?” “I do,” she said. “I thought you didn’t.” He seemed to want to rush her. He leaned forward, light on his feet. She pulled out the police whistle. At the sight of it he sat down heavily and put his head on the table. “Oh, Scarlet, Scarlet.” He began to weep. She felt stunned. She had never seen him cry. She was surprised it was possible. Could he be faking this? Then she suddenly realized with a flash of insight that, from her point of view, the problem wasn’t that his emotions were false, but that they were ephemeral. “I’m sorry, too.” She advanced toward the door. “Haven’t we said everything?” He looked up, tear-streaked. “Do you hate me?” She was startled. She had hated him. That feeling was ephemeral. “No.” “Will you tell Nick to hate me?” Now she felt irked. “Of course not.” He gazed at her slyly. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll look on me as the fun dad, the devil-may-care seducer who gets what he wants?” He’d been arguing inside his own head, cruelly mimicking her voice. “I’ll take my chances.” Nick would know Pom. He could choose. Choice – well-informed – is up to each of us. “I’m forgiven?” This was strange. It was an odd word from an unbeliever. The trial hadn’t even been held. Did he want her as a character witness? “Not yet,” she said briskly. “You haven’t signed this document.” She put a hand on the doorknob. “Aren’t we done here?” He seemed almost confused, as if she’d spoke a different language. He rose awkwardly, holding out his hand. He had the sense to say nothing. She took his hand slowly and he immediately grasped it with his other one, as if he wanted her to feel his strength. She realized she just didn’t like the man. She turned away. She wrenched her hand back and, very unwillingly, he let it go and picked up the pen. Then she opened the door upon her new world.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Alysse AallynArchives
November 2021
Categories |