farmhouse on the edge of the estate. Serena is all geared up to decorate it, which she loves, and the village is within walking distance. It’s ideal. Do you know Dorset?’
‘Not really. I used to go to Lulworth when I was a child.’
‘It’s such a beautiful place, really enchanting, and still almost a secret from the outside world. She’s too lucky for any words.’
‘I’m glad,’ I said. It was somehow important for me that Lady Claremont should know I didn’t want to make trouble. ‘I’m very fond of Serena.’
She laughed again, more easily, relieved to have passed the sticky corner. ‘Oh, my dear boy,’ she said, ‘we all know that.’
It was then that I heard the doors open behind me and I looked round to find Damian standing there, the darkened room behind him throwing him into a kind of high relief. He was completely motionless, but I did not need to be told where his gaze had fastened. Some of the others had registered him too. Not least Lord Claremont, whose brow visibly darkened. If he’d had any suspicions as to what this was all about, his worst ones were in this instant confirmed. He shot a glance at his wife and I noticed her give a tiny, almost indiscernible shake of her head. Damian’s silent stillness was becoming a little embarrassing, so I walked over. ‘Isn’t it extraordinary?’ I said. ‘Serena’s parents have taken more or less the next-door villa. We all ran into each other this afternoon outside the cathedral. Wasn’t it weird? You should have come.’
‘Obviously,’ said Damian, remaining completely stationary.
I pointed out Joanna and briskly explained the second not-coincidence. He smiled. ‘Oh, brave new world, that has such wonders in it,’ he said. But still he did not step forward into the party, or indeed alter his position at all. During this, Serena had been watching, waiting, I can only suppose, for him to make the first move, but if so, she was obviously going to be disappointed, so she decided it was time for her officially to register his presence. I admired her manner in doing it. A lifetime of emotional concealment can sometimes have its uses. She walked up briskly with a wide smile. ‘Damian,’ she said, ‘what a treat. How are you?’ Andrew had followed her across the terrace, and now stood, almost threateningly, as he locked eyes with the man who had after all knocked him down in front of us all at Dagmar’s ball. She, Dagmar, perhaps recalling the same incident with shame, left her own conversation and drew near. ‘You remember Andrew,’ said Serena, as if this whole thing might be happening on any street in any city.
‘Yes,’ said Damian. ‘I remember him.’
‘And I remember you,’ said Andrew.
I think the idea crossed several minds in that second that we might be about to witness a rematch, but Candida, sensing danger, came over, clapping her hands. ‘Let’s all have a walk before dinner. There’s a path down through the rocks, directly onto the beach. Don’t you agree?’ And before Serena could mention it: ‘Your motherin- law says she’ll stay here and watch out for the baby.’ Behind her Lady Belton had parked herself in a chair, with the expression of one of the accused at Nuremberg hearing his sentence read out.
In a way it did seem a solution and nobody raised any objection, so we broke away in groups and followed Candida, who had collared her uncle, Lord Claremont, as her personal guide. He didn’t put up much resistance and set off by her side, after refilling his drink and carrying it with him. We all pottered down on to the sand and I must say it was a marvellous sight, the wide, blue sea, shining and glinting in that pellucid, evening light. We loitered, listening to the waves for a while, but when we set off for our walk down the beach I realised with a faintly sinking heart – although why? When she was a married woman, and so no concern of mine – that Serena and Damian had slipped to the back of the group. With her marvellous instinct for avoiding trouble Lady Claremont had also taken this in and made a beeline for her son-in-law, sliding her arm through his, and involving him in some apparently intense flow of talk, heaven knows what about – what would one talk about when trying to interest Andrew Summersby? – as she dragged him down the beach with her. But I could see her husband watching his daughter and Damian at the end of the trailing line, and it was not hard to tell that the sight was becoming more and more disturbing to him.
Joanna had joined me, and now she whispered: ‘Do you think we’re going to see some fireworks?’
‘I bloody well hope not.’
‘My mother’s furious. She thought I’d have Damian all to myself, but it’s quite clear he couldn’t care less whether I live or die. Not when Serena’s around.’ Of course, at the time I thought she was exaggerating. That’s how slow I was.
At this stage Andrew drifted away from his motherin-law. He cast an angry look at the pair who were now quite a long way behind us on the sand, but Lucy came to his aid. I think that by this stage we were all, by unspoken agreement, working together trying to avoid a collision. Andrew had left Lady Claremont walking on her own and I could hear Pel Claremont as he drew alongside his wife. ‘Do you see who that is?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘Did you know he was here?’
‘Obviously not.’
‘What’s he talking to her about?’
‘How should I know?’
‘By Christ, if he’s trying something…’
‘If you say one single word you will only make things worse. I want your promise. You will say nothing contentious, not one word, before you close your eyes on your pillow.’
Lady Claremont hissed the phrase ‘not one word’ like a giant, angry snake and it was easy to tell she meant business, but whether she got the answer she required I couldn’t say, since I had to crane forward to catch the last of these muttered exchanges and her husband’s reply was lost beneath the sounds of the surf. Not knowing most of the facts, I couldn’t understand their hostility to Damian. I turned back to Joanna, on my left. ‘Did you hear any of that? If so, what’s it about?’
But she shook her head. ‘I wasn’t listening,’ she said.
I noticed we had been joined by Dagmar on the other side. ‘What about you?’ I asked, but she’d also missed it. In fact, she seemed rather quiet that night and uncharacteristically thoughtful. I looked at her, raising my eyebrows to signify a question, but she shook her head and gave a sad smile. ‘Nothing. I’m just pondering the rest of my life.’
