Page 12 of The Affair
‘No, ana. He’s Irish, from Dublin originally, although he was brought up mainly in Scotland. His father worked as a golf professional in the Borders.’
‘Golf … Oh dear.’ Dinah’s face fell. ‘My second was a fanatical golfer. He practically lived at the club. When he wasn’t playing, he was drinking himself to death with his cronies in the clubhouse. Ghastly game. Poor you.’
Connie wondered how many husbands she’d had. She caught Jared’s eye and saw an amused smile playing around his mouth as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. ‘The golfer was Connie’s father-in-law, Dinah. Her husband is a doctor,’ he said.
For a moment Dinah seemed confused. But she quickly recovered. ‘I’m not dotty,’ she said reprovingly, and turned to Connie. ‘So, tell me about Devan.’
‘Well, he’s recently retired –’
Dinah interrupted with a wave of her hand. ‘I really donotapprove of retirement. It’s a lot of nonsense, putting a perfectly capable person out to grass just because he’s not in his first flush. My third husband retired – foolishly, I did warn him – and died within the month.’
Jared began to laugh, his turquoise eyes lit by the candle in the middle of the table. ‘He was ninety-two …’
Dinah shot her godson a sharp look, then her face broke into a tender smile. ‘Gordon was such a dear, wasn’t he? The best of a very bad lot.’ She laid a hand on Jared’s arm. ‘I wish you’d settle down, darling. You’re always rushing off hither and yon. Never in one place long enough … I do worry.’
Connie thought Jared looked distinctly uncomfortable. He took a hasty sip of wine, his mouth twitching in a half-smile. ‘You know me, Dinah.’
His godmother gave him a considering look, one eyebrow slightly raised, implying she was not sure she did. Then she said, ‘I suppose after that dreadful business with Charlotte –’
‘Please,’ Jared interrupted, frowning beseechingly at Dinah. ‘Connie doesn’t want to know about that.’
Dinah turned, as if surprised to see Connie still sitting there. But with a lifetime of honed social skills, she segued seamlessly into an amusing anecdote about a visit to Monte Carlo with the dastardly Ambrose for her twenty-first birthday.
Connie’s meal was delicious: pumpkin and pecorino ravioli, lake fishfritto misto, a green salad with a dressing to die for. Dinah entertained them with hilarious and frequently naughty tales of her four husbands: it turned out Gordon was not the last – a misguided interlude with one charming but profligate Thurston being her final hurrah. Connie was so entertained, she almost forgot she was on tour and working.
Dinah was nothing like her mother, but they were of the same generation, and her vocabulary, her attitudes, her independent mind reminded Connie of Sheila. Throughout the meal, it felt as if she and Jared were strangely allied, laughing as much with Dinah as at her foibles. He obviously loved his godmother very much but saw her clearly for what she was.
It was such a beautiful night, the air crisp and fresh, the lights along the lake piercing the darkness like clusters of winking fireflies, the sky a sea of stars. They opted to walk back to the hotel. Even Dinah, leaning heavily on Jared’s arm, insisted a taxi would be an insult on a night like this. Connie agreed. She was feeling lightheaded and even light-hearted this evening. A combination of more wine than she usually allowed herself and the lively company had relaxed her. She wanted to enjoy these moments before the long slog home and what awaited her there.
Some of the group were already back at the hotel, gathered in the bar adjoining the foyer. As Dinah said her goodnights, Jared still supporting her towards the lifts, she made a smallmoueof regret at what she was missing.
‘There was a time I’d have closed the bar in the early hours,’ she said to Connie, standing straighter for a moment, head swept back, allowing her a small glimpse of what must have been the striking, magnificent woman of her youth.
‘Join us, Connie?’ She heard Ginty’s drunken tonesand turned to see her and Ruth beckoning her from where they sat with the others, around two tables pushed together.It’s the last night at the lake, she thought. Tomorrow they would take the train to Paris, spend a night there, then onwards to London. So maybe she could stay for a quick one. She had no desire to go to bed right now.
Almost before she had sat down, Ruth plonked a glass containing amber liquid and crushed ice in front of her.
‘We’re on to the Amaretto,’ she said.
Connie thanked her and took a sip, the sweet bitter-almond taste rolling smoothly over her tongue. She and Devan weren’t big spirits drinkers, their preferred poison a good red wine. But this was hitting the spot for her tonight and she smiled, raising her glass to the group, all clearly in a celebratory mood.
‘We’ve had the best time.’ Ruth beamed at her, clinking her glass. ‘You’ve made it perfect for us.’
‘She really is the best,’ a voice from behind her agreed.
Turning, Connie saw Jared. As before, when he had remarked so emphatically that she was ‘brilliant’, she felt embarrassed by his praise. It didn’t sound quite the same as Ruth’s or Ginty’s. It had a note of something else that unsettled her – although not in an altogether unpleasant way.
He pulled up a chair next to her, peering into her glass. ‘What’s that you’ve got?’
She told him and he pulled a face. When he cameback from the bar with a tumbler of whisky and chinking ice, he turned to her. ‘Listen, I’m so sorry you had to endure all Dinah’s stories tonight. Neither of us got a word in edgewise. But that’s how it always is with her.’
‘Goodness, don’t apologize,’ Connie said. ‘I loved it. She’s a force of nature, your godmother.’
Jared chuckled. ‘She’s wicked about her poor husbands. I only met two of them, but they were nothing like as bad as she makes out. Just outmanoeuvred and outclassed, poor sods. They didn’t stand a chance.’
For a while the conversation became general. Favourite moments of the tour were mooted and challenged. But all the while Connie was conscious of Jared by her side, contributing little, but quietly attentive to what she was saying. She found she was enjoying it.
By the time she got up to her room she was pleasantly drunk. She twirled in front of the mirror and smiled a goofy grin to herself, smoothing her hands down her hips, the jersey of her blue and white paisley dress warm beneath her fingers. Then she sighed and sat down on the bed.She would be home in a couple of days and she returned to the question that had been flitting uneasily around her brain during the tour.If I retire, will it change things for Devan?Or did his discontent go much deeper? It was pointless for her to throw in the towel – this, for example, had been such a fun trip – if the real problem was not her work at all but something else that was wrong.
