Читать книгу Chelsea Wives - Anna-Lou Weatherley - Страница 19

‘It’s just shopping, Calvary. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it, you usually love nothing more.’ Douglas Rothschild turned to face his wife who was sitting at her dressing table, nervously applying and re-applying her make-up, her actions deliberate as she struggled to contain her simmering rage.

‘Just shopping! Just shopping! Well, that’s something, even coming from you, Douglas,’ she spat.

‘You’re being melodramatic,’ he replied, dismissively. ‘The girl only wants you to go with her, give her a bit of advice. Can’t you at least put your own feelings aside for a few hours? It’s not so much to ask really, is it?’

Incredulous, Calvary frantically began pulling a brush through her hair, the sharp bristles scratching at her scalp like a thousand fingernails.

‘So you actually acknowledge I have feelings to put aside at least,’ she snorted. ‘That’s a first for you, Douglas.’

‘How long is this going to go on for?’ He rolled his eyes, exasperated. ‘The wedding is weeks away yet. Are you planning to keep this up until then?’

Calvary fought down the urge to throw her hairbrush at him.

‘If I have my way there won’t be a wedding,’ she replied casually, her tone belying the anger inside that was threatening to choke her.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Calvary,’ Douglas whined. ‘There’s going to be a wedding whether you like it or not. Henry will start asking questions soon if you don’t put a stop to this petulant behaviour.’

Calvary could contain herself no longer. ‘And what could possibly have happened for me to make such an about-turn, hmm? Nothing to do with finding you and Tamara going at it like a shed door in a gale in this very bed!’ She turned round and threw her hairbrush down onto the offending duvet, narrowly missing him. It made a soft whooshing sound as it sank into the goose Yves Dolorme eiderdown.

‘Why can’t you just move on?’ he sighed. ‘I’ve apologised for what happened, after all. I mean, I realise it can’t have been nice for you but …’

‘Nice?’ Calvary growled. ‘Nice?’ She shook her head in despair. ‘I don’t believe I am hearing this, Douglas.’

‘Look,’ his face softened now, giving her a glimpse of the handsome man he had once been, the one she had fallen so hopelessly, so tragically in love with all those years ago. ‘Can’t we just put the whole horrid business behind us and move on?’ he implored. ‘Our eldest son’s getting married in a few months’ time. The least we can do is give him the support he – and Tamara, for that matter – need right now.’

Calvary threw her head back and let out a hollow, shrill laugh, causing him to wince.

‘You are something else, Douglas Rothschild, do you know that? Giving me, me, all the spiel about our eldest son getting married, how we must support him, be there for him like good parents.’ She threw her hands up to the ceiling. ‘It would be bloody laughable were it not so utterly disgusting!’ She faced him now, anger emanating from her like sound waves as she stood.

‘I’ll give that little madam some advice alright,’ Calvary continued, the veins in her neck protruding like rivers of poison. ‘How about not fucking one’s prospective father-in-law behind one’s fiancé’s back? That’s a start, isn’t it?’

Douglas glared back at his wife. He’d eaten more than his fair share of humble pie as far as he was concerned and now he was growing impatient with her histrionics.

‘Calvary, this has to stop,’ he commanded. ‘I told you it was nothing. That I was sorry. It was a silly mistake. We’d had too much to drink one afternoon and got a bit carried away, that was all. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened.’

Calvary laughed in derision.

‘You know, Douglas, even if that were true, you should have known better. But you just can’t help yourself. You never could keep it zipped in your pants, could you? Even your own son’s wife-to-be isn’t off limits. You disgust me, Douglas Rothschild. Disgust me!’ Calvary glowered at her husband with a fierceness he had never seen in her before and his heart sank. He had a horrible feeling that this time it was going to take more than an antique sideboard from Sotheby’s to sort this blasted mess out.

The last thing Douglas wanted was a scandal that would invariably lead to divorce. Thank goodness that little receptionist strumpet he’d been seeing to every now and again had given him the nod, allowing him to get a head start on squirrelling away some of his assets. This thought cheered him instantly. Once that wife of his realised she’d be left without a bean she’d soon put an end to any ideas of divorce. Douglas knew her too well; she may be able to give him up, but give up the money? Never.

Why couldn’t she just bloody well do the same with this one? He knew it was a bit of an ask, what with it being Henry’s fiancée and all but still, it was only the one time and hardly his fault; the girl had given him the come on, all big eyed and heavy breasted, parading herself around in front of him in barely-there outfits, sighing breathlessly as she spoke in husky, dulcet tones, licking her glossy lips at him. What was a man supposed to do? She’d been as game as he was. More so, in fact. And on top of things he was now having to contend with her as well, coming to him all teary-eyed and remorseful, terrified that Calvary would put the mockers on her much anticipated nuptials to his son. Even the greatest sex in the world wasn’t worth this much aggravation.

Calvary stared at her husband contemptuously, wondering how she had ever come to marry such a complete and utter shit.

‘I’m taking the dogs for a walk,’ she announced, her voice cracking like the embers of a bonfire as she pulled on a Brora cashmere cardigan. She could no longer stand to be in the same room as him.

With a heavy heart, Calvary knew she would have to live with his dirty little secret. Swallow it down like a particularly bitter pill. At least for now …

‘Listen,’ Douglas made to reach out for her hand but she snatched it away. ‘The Ivanovs have said we can have their house up in Lake Como for a couple of weeks – why don’t you go? Get away for a while, take some friends with you. Have a spa break, or whatever it is that you women do. It’ll do you good to clear your head a bit.’

As usual, he was trying to buy back some kind of equilibrium between them, though secretly Calvary was a little taken with this suggestion. Perhaps a holiday was just what she needed. She’d invite Imogen and maybe even Yasmin Belmont-Jones too. She had grown rather fond of her in recent weeks and was sure Imogen wouldn’t mind if the girl tagged along.

Imogen Forbes was Calvary’s oldest and truest friend. Having been introduced at a rather stuffy charity event by their respective husbands some twelve years ago, Calvary often joked that their meeting was one of the best things to have come out of her marriage to Douglas. Though in fact, it was no joke at all.

Hailing from similar backgrounds – the worlds of fashion and modelling – the two women had struck up an instant rapport and had spent the entire evening in deep conversation and fits of giggles. They had both left the party that evening feeling as if they had met a kindred spirit. Over the years their friendship had strengthened and deepened into something they both cherished dearly. Like sisters, they bickered occasionally, but were fiercely loyal and protective towards one another.

‘You could fly out next week, after the ball,’ Douglas suggested, hopefully. ‘Relax, sun yourself for a few days. Just wait until you see the Ivanovs’ place; it’s absolutely spectacular.’ He detected the slightest flicker of interest in Calvary’s eyes, and felt himself relax a little.

‘I’ll arrange for you all to fly out on the jet,’ he said in a childlike voice, attempting to lock the deal down, ‘and,’ he added as an extra sweetener, ‘you can have free run of the Black Amex card.’ He sang the last bit like a game show host enticing a contestant to gamble for the big prize.

Calvary watched as her body visibly sagged in front of the mirror. She felt utterly defeated.

‘I’ll take Tamara shopping tomorrow,’ she said quietly with her back to him, tucking her jeans into her Tod’s leather riding boots.

A small, satisfied smile crept across Douglas’s face and he had to stop himself from letting out an audible sigh of relief.

‘That’s it, old girl,’ he said, immediately buoyed. He could go and have that game of golf now without all this nasty business hanging over him, threatening to put him off his swing.

‘Get yourself something fantastic for Forbes’s do as well, spend what you like.’

Calvary grabbed a packet of Vogue cigarettes from the stash in her dressing table and threw them into her Smythson tote.

‘Oh, don’t you worry, Douglas,’ she said, brushing his shoulder with her own as she flounced past him. ‘I damn well intend to.’