Snobs: A Novel

by way of encouragement. He didn't seem to need more as suddenly he heaved himself over between her legs, fumbled himself into her, thrust away a few times — no more than six at the outside — and then, with a terrific gasp to tell her that it was now (which she countered with some cries and pants of her own), he collapsed on top of her. The whole business, from the moment he folded the paper, had taken perhaps eight minutes. Ah, thought Edith.

'Thank you, darling.' One of Charles's more irritating habits was always to thank Edith after sex, as if she had just brought him a cup of tea. Of course, at this point, she did not know it was habitual.

She thought of responding, 'Oh, but thank you,' then decided it was too like people waving at each other through a hotel door so she settled for simply saying, 'Darling…' in a sort of misty way and kissing him on the neck. He had rolled off her by now and she was feeling a bit chilly lying there but moving seemed the wrong thing as this was all constituting a 'very important moment' for Charles and she had no intention of spoiling it. She did not allow herself any review of the love-making

— if that was what they had just been through. It was, after all, early days, and she was beginning to suspect that Charles, for all his savoir faire with waiters, was not very confident when it came to the more private areas. At least he seemed to feel that something momentous had taken place, even if her body had never left the station, so the episode surely rated as a success rather than a failure. That said, she did catch herself briefly hoping that things would improve with practice.

They dined in the hotel, more to avoid being spotted and congratulated by any of their friends (who never dine in hotels except with Americans who are staying there) than for any particular enthusiasm for the cuisine de la maison and then went to bed around eleven. They had a repeat performance of the afternoon's activity and then rolled over to sleep. Edith stared at the ceiling, contemplating the oddness of life. Here she was with this man, whom she hardly knew when she really thought about it, asleep, naked, beside her. She pondered that central truth, which must have struck many brides from Marie Antoinette to Wallis Simpson, that whatever the political, social or financial advantages of a great marriage, there comes a moment when everyone leaves the room and you are left alone with a stranger who has the legal right to copulate with you. She was not at all sure that she had fully negotiated this simple fact until then.

The thought had not left her when she awoke — the first time for a good long while that she had awakened next to anyone

— and she was rather relieved when Charles made it clear, slightly sheepishly, that he was not a 'morning man'. Things eased when they began to discuss the wedding, the various near-dramas, which guests they disliked, who was unhappily married, who was going broke. Of course, thought Edith, this is what we're going to talk about, the things we've done together, and the longer we're married, the more shared experiences we'll have to discuss. She was just comforting herself with these ruminations when Charles lapsed into silence. Not for the last time, he had run dry. There was a knock at the door. A waiter came in wheeling a trolley of breakfast.

'Good morning, my lord,' he said to Charles and then, as he approached the bed with a tray, 'Good morning, my lady.'

Oh well, thought Edith, things could be worse.

Given the fact that their first hours together had not been an overwhelming thrill, it was perhaps a little surprising that the trip to Rome, by contrast, went very well. They stayed at the Hotel de la Ville, quite near the top of the Spanish Steps, and just down from the Villa Medici. Rome is a very beautiful city anyway and this was of course Edith's first experience of being milady'd and contessa'd everywhere she went, which was amusing (though she knew enough not to show it) and a solid reminder of why she was in this spot. The food was delicious and there was plenty to see and consequently to talk about and so as they sat in the Piazza Navona eating under the stars or strolled down the fountain-decked walks of the Villa d'Este out at Tivoli, Edith began to feel that she had after all made a good choice and that the rich and rewarding life of her imaginings really did lie ahead.

During their stay Charles started to talk about Broughton and Feltham in an affectionate, detailed way that was new to her.

Perhaps he had thought that before she had actually, so to speak, become a Broughton she would not be interested. He loved his homes and his cares and since this was all fitting in along the lines of her pre-nuptial fantasies, she loved him for it. She was able to respond to his enthusiasm with an unfeigned enthusiasm of her own. To her delight, she discovered that he was a bit rusty on the history of the family itself. Here was her task! She saw herself lovingly cataloguing the furniture and pictures, entertaining ancient aunts and writing up memoirs of long, hot Edwardian summers at Broughton, bringing down and cleaning forgotten pictures in the attics of some particularly amusing ancestor. She was interested in both history and gossip — what could be better qualifications? It is true that the sex did not improve dramatically and the format never varied but once Charles was less nervous with her it did at least take a bit longer. Altogether, as they boarded the aeroplane for Madrid, the first leg of their journey to Mallorca, Edith and Charles were able to stare into each other's eyes in a deliberate imitation of two people who were as 'happy as newly-weds'.

EIGHT

At Palma, where they surged out of the ticket hall surrounded by what looked and sounded like the entire supporters' club of Wolverhampton Wanderers, they were hailed by a wrinkled cockney with a face like beaten leather and red nylon shorts. He was, he explained, Eric's 'driver' and had come to take them to the villa. Charles was slightly put out at not being met in person — Edith would learn that like many apparently easy-going grandees his insecurity manifested itself if he ever felt that he was being treated like an 'ordinary person' despite his often saying that this was exactly what he wanted. She, herself, was simply glad to be out of the airport and in a car and gradually her relief transmitted itself to him. In the end he forgave the Chases for staying at home: the drive consisted of two and a half hours of dry scrub and shanties as they crossed the centre of the island. Edith had never visited Mallorca before and had not known what to expect. But she realised on looking out of the car window that the images in her mind had consisted of various combinations of Monte Carlo and Blackpool, not the scratch farming and dust of the plains of Salamanca. As they approached Calaratjada, however, the huge concrete hotels of her imaginings began to materialise together with the crowds — mainly respectable but with the hovering hint of kiss- me-quick hats — and all the sights and smells of the Beach Holiday made their familiar and comforting appearance.

The villa itself was a large, white, modern affair constructed around a kind of hill/courtyard, with vast tiled terraces looking out across the bay. There was a private jetty, which was apparently more for swimming than for tethering boats, and meant that there was no need for the villa's inhabitants to use the crowded, sandy beach that launched the tourist swimmers into the sea from a point a few hundred yards to the left of their position. Across the water, the smart houses of the Mallorcin could be glimpsed through their modest curtaining of trees and beyond there was the wide, blue ocean. Edith and Charles stood admiring the view, as a pin-figure far below them on the jetty waved and started to run up the steps. A few minutes later Caroline appeared. They were kissed and congratulated and, in turn, they admired the villa.

'Isn't it fabulous? It belongs to some client of Eric's so we've got a frightfully good rate. It's far cheaper than the one we had last year and it's twice the size. Needless to say, we're being used as an absolute boarding-house all summer long.'