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“WELL, HE SOUNDED LIKE a very nice man to me,” Lek said, as Edward put the phone down.
“He said he enjoyed speaking to you too,” said Edward.
“Sorry to take so long passing it over, but I was trying to get him to divulge his secret.”
“What did he want?” said Mark, from the sofa.
“To invite us all to his hotel for a meal,” said Edward.
Lek sprayed some polish on the dining table and rubbed it with a cloth. “Far out, man,” she said. “The Brunton Taylorforth’s renowned for its grub. I’ve often thought I’d like to go but Mark’s never offered to take me.”
“And now I won’t have to. Hooray for nice young men.”
“He’s eighty,” Edward said. “Of course, he’ll be getting married.”
“You think?” Mark said. He looked down at his newspaper. “Four across. ‘A monkey says cheer me, cheer him, cheer the bloody shops, I’m only a twelfth century Venetian’, five letters.”
“I hope it’s not some teenager after his money,” Lek said.
“Do you really think he’d want a teenager?” Mark said. “At his age?”
“Oh, wake up, Mark,” Lek said. “Old man-li’l girl? Old man likee sex, li’l girl likee wallet? He’s supposed to be incredibly wealthy, isn’t he? It happens all the time, every day, every minute of the day, every second of every minute, every split second of - ”
“Get the picture,” Mark said.
Edward held the candlestick up while Lek polished under it. “Well, if both parties are happy,” he said, “what’s it matter?”
“It’s disgusting,” Lek replied. “Unnatural.”
“Anyway, he’s not the going-for-a-teenager kind. My guess is he wants someone to look after him.”
“Hello? It is technically possible for teenagers to look after elderly men.”
“For about five minutes,” Mark said.
Lek laughed. “Could you switch your Nintendo off for a moment, my dear? My incontinence pants need changing.”
“You’re an ageist,” Edward said.
Lek gave Edward the place mats. “I love old people. I just don’t love old people who don’t love old people. Tell it like it is, Lek. Yeah, I will, girl. An old person who hungers for teenage flesh is a vampire, full stop. Mark’s grandma: now that’s my idea of an old person you can respect.”
“What’s so great about my grandma?” Mark asked.
“Oh, come on, Mark. Can’t skateboard, won’t even try?”
There was a short silence. Lek polished the table with long sweeps from her shoulder. “Done.”
“Suppose so,” Mark said, at last. “‘Caught in a bluebottle’s corset, I won’t even try to get out, said Hilary L. Cartwheel’, two words, six and five letters.”
“So what will you think, Edward,” Lek said, “if we turn up tomorrow, and there’s some teenager sitting next to him, mindlessly prodding her mobile like they all do, and he goes, ‘Edward, I’d like you to meet the next Mrs Charles Swinter’? What will you do?”
“It’s none of my business.”
“Oh, don’t be so wet. He’s your friend. He’s eighty. Is he physically capable of carrying on a relationship with a teenager? If he’s not, then you have a duty to save him. Is she simply after his money? If she is, then you have a duty to save him. You can’t just wash your hands of it.”
“Okay, I’d have to talk to him, obviously. But he’s compos mentis. If he wants her body, and she wants his money, so what? He can’t take it with him.”
“Unacceptable,” Lek said. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Why?”
Mark put his pen down. “I can’t help thinking we’re jumping the gun a bit here. We’re marrying him to a teenager without his consent. What if he’s not getting married at all? What if he’s bought some property out here? What if he’s bought the Brunton Taylorforth?”
“It’s possible,” Edward said. “But I don’t think so.”
“Perhaps he’s arranged something for you, Edward,” Lek said. “Think: is tomorrow’s date special to you in any way?”
“No.”
“You’re talking to a man who barely celebrates his own birthday,” Mark said. “Twelve down: ‘In a Paris boudoir, the ninety-fifth king of Mars eats an Ibis with his elbows steeped in brine’, ten letters. Give me some help, people.”
“He didn’t know I was coming out here,” Edward said. “No, he came out here for something quite specific. Marriage is all I can think of.”
“Well, think about him getting married a bit harder,” said Lek. “Your last observation in that department – ‘he’s fully compos mentis , blah, blah, blah’ – was completely wrong.”
The next day, the three got up early, had a quick breakfast then spent the rest of the morning getting ready. Lek had a limited array of maternity outfits, so spent most of her time soaking in the bath and putting on her make-up. Mark and Edward decided on long-sleeved shirts and sharply creased trousers. Mark ironed everyone’s clothes, while Edward went outside to polish the shoes. Lek lay on the bed, groaning.
“Mark! She’s kicking me!”
“Are you sure you’re okay to go?” Mark said. “What if your waters break while we’re there?”
“I’m okay. Are you going to drive us there? Do you know where to park?”
“Everything’s under control. Just relax.”
“You’re not in a fit condition,” Edward said. “I think someone should ring for an ambulance, personally.”
“‘Someone’,” said Mark. “You mean me.”
“I don’t know the number.”
Lek grimaced. “Don’t ring for an ambulance. I want to see what Charles Swinter’s up to. Please let me go. I won’t give birth, I promise.”
“Can you feel any contractions?” Mark asked her.
Lek laughed. “Ante-natal classes were always going to be lost on you, weren’t they, sweetie? Hang on, let me check a bit harder. No, I can’t feel any contractions. I don’t think. Hang on, let me just check again. No, none. Come on, let’s get moving. I’m okay now, swear. Look, I not only promise not to give birth, I promise not to embarrass you by having my waters break in public. I can’t say fairer than that, can I? Come on.”
“Do you think we can trust her?” Edward said.
Mark shrugged. “She’s an incorrigible liar but what choice do we have?”
They arrived at the Brunton Taylorforth half an hour later. The receptionist, a short man with a side-parting, ticked their names off the guest list and asked them to sign a register.
“Coffee’s being served in the conference room,” he said. “I’ll have one of the maids take you over there directly. Ratree?”
Ratree appeared from nowhere, dressed in a pale green uniform with an apron and a white lace cap.
“Ratree, would you take Mr and Mrs Shawcross and Mr Grant to the conference room and tell the doorman that three of Mr Swinter’s guests have arrived?”
When he repeated the same instructions in Thai, Ratree’s expression cleared. She took them to the conference room and spoke to the doorman. The doorman held the door open for them.
“Please step inside and wait,” he said. “I’ll inform Mr Swinter.”
“How are you feeling?” Mark asked Lek.
“I’m fine,” she said, looking round. She guessed there must be a hundred guests on a space a little over four times the ground floor of her own house. There were six chandeliers, all bulbs going. Two long tables with crisp tablecloths and candelabras stretched the length of the room and converged at one end. Two seats of honour there confirmed Edward’s theory without the need further enquiry. She wondered who the unlucky woman was and what sort of woman could possibly see an eighty year-old as an attractive prospect.
There were no place-markers. She guessed when the time came to sit down, everyone would take their places on a first-come first-served basis. The hostess in her tut tutted. No matter. She’d make her way to a good seat as soon as she’d shaken Charles Swinter’s hand and exchanged the customary remarks about the weather.
Charles appeared from the crowd in company with the doorman, who immediately resumed his post and came to attention.
“Edward, Edward!” he said. He grabbed Edward’s hand and embraced him.
“Good to see you, Charles.”
“We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I’m at your disposal from this date on. Excluding next Saturday. And these are your friends. We talked on the phone, yesterday,” he said, turning to Lek. “You must be Lek. My, I see you’re with child, as the expression goes. Congratulations.”
“Very pleased to meet you,” Lek said. “This is Mark Shawcross, my husband.”
The two men shook hands. Lek was unsettled. Charles Swinter looked much younger than she’d been told. Could Edward be mistaken? And yet - it was possible to discern something of the very old man in him. You had to look hard.
“I hope we’ll see an awful lot of each other this week,” Charles said. “Edward, I’ve been keeping you a little in the dark lately. Necessary, I’m afraid.”
“I take it you’re getting married,” Edward said.
“Wh – how did you know?”
“I guessed. When do we get to meet the lucky lady?”
“Right now, hopefully. Come forth, O beautiful one!”
Suddenly, Noonie, dressed as she had been two days earlier, emerged from the crowd. She did a double-take as the first glimmer of recognition hit her, then froze and blushed.
Mark, Lek and Edward looked at each other. For a moment, no one said anything and Charles began to look perplexed.
“Er – do you people know each other?” he asked.
Noonie was shaking. Her index finger was moving back and forward between Charles and Edward. Her mouth opened and closed, revealing a little string of mucus.
“You two – you two – know each other?” she said.
“This is my friend, Edward, dear,” Charles said. “Er, Edward Grant? From England ...”
“We’ve met,” Edward said. The temperature in the hall seemed to fall. He grabbed her hand, shook it and dropped it.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Lek, picking up the hand Edward had dropped and crushing it. “Sorry I didn’t catch your name.”
Noonie yelped and withdrew, her eyes welling.
“Mark, I’m beginning to experience contractions,” Lek said. “I need you to take me home and possibly to hospital. Good day, Mr Swinter. It was a pleasure meeting you. Congratulations on your engagement or whatever it is you wish to call it. Edward, are you coming?”
“I’m staying,” Edward said.
“But - ”
“I’m staying.”
She turned, pushed the doorman out of the way, threw the door open and stormed out. Mark hesitated then rushed after her.
“Was it something I said?” Charles asked.
Noonie was transferring her weight from one foot to the other and back again, flushed, looking at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Charles,” she said, “I have to ... I don’t know ... to go and ... I’m not feeling well, Charles, Edward, excuse me.” She turned and clawed her way into the crowd.
Charles grinned, shook his head once and clicked his tongue. “Women, eh?”
“So where would you like me to sit?” Edward asked.
Four hours later, Edward staggered in the front door of the Shawcrosses house. Lek and Mark were sitting on the sofa, facing him. Mark had his arm round Lek. Lek had obviously been crying.
“Hello, you two,” Edward said.
Lek got to her feet, and came forward, her tears switched on again, and put her arms round him.
“Why did you stay?” she said.
“Because Charles is my friend.”
“How are you now?”
“I’m fine, thanks. Once you’ve had a drink, things usually find their right perspective. I’ve still got you and Mark. Anyway, I was only just thinking of asking her out. It wasn’t like we’d been going out for a year or anything. What am I to her? She doesn’t owe me anything.”
“That’s not the point,” Lek said.
“Lek, she didn’t betray me or anything. It’s not like she was my wife and I caught her messing around with some other man.”
“She’s a dirty little gold-digger,” Lek said. “All the time she was here, pretending to be a nice person, she was actually planning to fleece your best friend.”
“We don’t know that. And remember what I said. He’s compos mentis , blah, blah, blah. I stand by that.”
“Hell, she must have known you were developing feelings for her. She could have warned you off, however subtly.”
“Ah, but that’s it. I never developed feelings for her. It was all in my mind. All along. Anyway, how did you know I’d developed feelings for her?”
“Because of the conversation we had at breakfast, remember. You staying on the island. Should you stay in a hotel or with us?”
“Oh, that. Over it, now, anyway. All over. I might just go to bed, if that’s okay.”
Lek spluttered a laugh. “It’s only four o’clock in the afternoon!”
“I’m a bit tired.”
“What was it like?” Mark asked. “The meal, I mean?”
“It was bloody great.”
“Yeah?”
“Best meal I’ve had for ages. Since Friday night ... I mean. Not that good, actually.”
“I meant, specifically.”
“Well, for the main course, we had the Steamed Fish, which I thought was a bit much. Talk about rubbing salt in an open wound. Noonie – if we can still call her that – Nongnuch, Miss Kitkailart – sat next to Charles – if we can still call him that. She looked sad all the way through. I felt quite sorry for her, at one point. I wanted to say to her, ‘Cheer up, I’ve still got Lek and Mark. Anyway, I was only just thinking of asking you out. It wasn’t like we’d been going out for a year or anything. What am I to you? You don’t owe me anything’. But I couldn’t really. Couldn’t stand up without drawing attention to myself. She seemed to know where I was sitting. Wouldn’t look at me. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like we’d been going out for a year or anything. Felt very sorry for her, to tell you the truth. Anyway, to sum up: she looked sad. Then, halfway through, Charles stood up with this bloody gigantic Thai man. Adirake or something, he was called. He said – that is, Charles said, if I can still call him that, ‘I’ve got some great news, we’re going to make it a double wedding. Noonie’s brother has just proposed to his fiancé’, whatever she was called: Something. Everyone raved. Some joker started to play a set of bagpipes, God knows why. I guess they must have had some spare bagpipes out the back somewhere. Anyway, then Charles put his arms round Adirake and the two of them began to dance round the floor together. Adirake didn’t look too pleased about it but I could tell Charles was having a whale of a time. Good old Charles. What a guy.”
“How much did you have?” Lek asked.
“Alcohol, you mean? A bit. I wasn’t counting. Anyway, I’m not drunk.”
“I shouldn’t have crushed her hand,” Lek said. “That was petty of me. I overreacted. I’ll write her a note of apology. Not now, I’m too tired and I need to think. I’ll do it tomorrow. Mark, I want you to take it into school on Tuesday and give it to her.”
“Without looking her in the eye, presumably?” Mark asked. “Because I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Don’t be too hard on her,” Edward said, sitting down on the step to the veranda, and looking out across the trees. “She made a good fairy princess and I was a good Gawain, even if I do say so myself.” He smiled, sighed, lowered his gaze, and ground his teeth. “Let’s maybe just let her get on with her life now, eh?”
