Geordie.’
‘I won’t. And I’m going to school now. Where people care about slightly more important things than yet more photographs of that bloody Coronation.’
‘Lucas—’
But he was gone. Geordie stood up; he was white with rage.
‘Geordie—’
‘Adele, just leave this to me, will you? I will not tolerate this behaviour.’
‘It won’t do any—’
But the door had closed behind Geordie; there was shouting from the hall, then a loud slam as the front door banged. Adele and Noni looked at each other.
‘Oh, Maman – ’
‘Oh, Noni – ’
‘My dear, whatever is the matter? I hate to see you so distressed. Please tell me.’
‘Kit absolutely refuses to come and visit me,’ Celia’s face was swollen with crying as she looked at Lord Arden. ‘And I can’t bear it. I really can’t. I love him so much and—’
‘Go on.’
‘No. No, that’s it.’
How could she tell him? That she had wanted so badly to explain to Kit exactly why she had married Bunny. The tortuous, difficult reasons. And that he had refused all her invitations to hear any of them.
‘He’ll get over it, Celia. Of course he will. He’s young, they always come round in the end.’
‘He’s not that young, Bunny.’ She wiped her eyes, reached for a cigarette. ‘He’s thirty-three. And he’s very – steely. Always has been.’
‘And – your favourite?’
‘What? No, no of course not.’
He was: of course. Being the youngest, the most brilliant and beautiful, the most charming, the one who had loved her the best. And—
‘Yes he is. Come on, you can admit it to me. It’s not a crime. Any fool can see you don’t get on with Giles. And the twins, they obviously come first with each other, always will. No, Kit has your heart, Celia, and I don’t wonder at it. I still remember him as a little chap, sitting on your knee, telling you you were pretty, making you laugh.’
‘He wouldn’t tell me I was pretty now,’ said Celia, managing to smile.
‘Well, never mind. As I say, I’m sure he’ll get over it.’
‘Bunny, don’t keep saying that, please.’
Her tone was sharp; Lord Arden looked at her nervously. He was coming to know that tone very well. It hadn’t been something he had really heard before they were married. He decided to go to his club. She’d calm down. And when she did, he would tell her of the trip he had arranged, to hear Callas sing in Vienna. That would take her mind off her troublesome family. That and a piece of jewellery he had spotted for her in the window of Aspreys. He didn’t normally like modern jewellery but this was exquisite, a diamond and sapphire bracelet, so wide it was almost a cuff. He might go and secure it now, on the way to his club.
Kit leaving Lyttons had been bad enough. He had been right, of course, he knew her so well; she had seen it as a dreadful blow. She might have physically left the firm, but she was still absolutely a part of it, she had created it, it was hers, as much as one of her children. And Kit was part of it, too. It had made him, as good publishers do make authors, however brilliant their work; shaping them, presenting them, building their reputations, guiding their futures. Kit’s first book had been clever, original, witty; but it had still needed care, creativity, style, in order to achieve the absolute success it had found. And Lyttons, the Lyttons she had made, had provided all those things just as it provided them for other authors; an absolute concern for quality, a total attention to detail, an instinctive sense of the moment. In other hands Childsway would have been a different book, and Christopher Lytton would have been a different author, just as successful, perhaps, but different. He had allowed Lyttons to give birth to his career as an author – and was now rejecting them. And rejecting her. His leaving was a rejection of her. She knew him well enough to recognise that. At first, she had struggled without a great deal
‘I won’t. And I’m going to school now. Where people care about slightly more important things than yet more photographs of that bloody Coronation.’
‘Lucas—’
But he was gone. Geordie stood up; he was white with rage.
‘Geordie—’
‘Adele, just leave this to me, will you? I will not tolerate this behaviour.’
‘It won’t do any—’
But the door had closed behind Geordie; there was shouting from the hall, then a loud slam as the front door banged. Adele and Noni looked at each other.
‘Oh, Maman – ’
‘Oh, Noni – ’
‘My dear, whatever is the matter? I hate to see you so distressed. Please tell me.’
‘Kit absolutely refuses to come and visit me,’ Celia’s face was swollen with crying as she looked at Lord Arden. ‘And I can’t bear it. I really can’t. I love him so much and—’
‘Go on.’
‘No. No, that’s it.’
How could she tell him? That she had wanted so badly to explain to Kit exactly why she had married Bunny. The tortuous, difficult reasons. And that he had refused all her invitations to hear any of them.
‘He’ll get over it, Celia. Of course he will. He’s young, they always come round in the end.’
‘He’s not that young, Bunny.’ She wiped her eyes, reached for a cigarette. ‘He’s thirty-three. And he’s very – steely. Always has been.’
‘And – your favourite?’
‘What? No, no of course not.’
He was: of course. Being the youngest, the most brilliant and beautiful, the most charming, the one who had loved her the best. And—
‘Yes he is. Come on, you can admit it to me. It’s not a crime. Any fool can see you don’t get on with Giles. And the twins, they obviously come first with each other, always will. No, Kit has your heart, Celia, and I don’t wonder at it. I still remember him as a little chap, sitting on your knee, telling you you were pretty, making you laugh.’
‘He wouldn’t tell me I was pretty now,’ said Celia, managing to smile.
‘Well, never mind. As I say, I’m sure he’ll get over it.’
‘Bunny, don’t keep saying that, please.’
Her tone was sharp; Lord Arden looked at her nervously. He was coming to know that tone very well. It hadn’t been something he had really heard before they were married. He decided to go to his club. She’d calm down. And when she did, he would tell her of the trip he had arranged, to hear Callas sing in Vienna. That would take her mind off her troublesome family. That and a piece of jewellery he had spotted for her in the window of Aspreys. He didn’t normally like modern jewellery but this was exquisite, a diamond and sapphire bracelet, so wide it was almost a cuff. He might go and secure it now, on the way to his club.
Kit leaving Lyttons had been bad enough. He had been right, of course, he knew her so well; she had seen it as a dreadful blow. She might have physically left the firm, but she was still absolutely a part of it, she had created it, it was hers, as much as one of her children. And Kit was part of it, too. It had made him, as good publishers do make authors, however brilliant their work; shaping them, presenting them, building their reputations, guiding their futures. Kit’s first book had been clever, original, witty; but it had still needed care, creativity, style, in order to achieve the absolute success it had found. And Lyttons, the Lyttons she had made, had provided all those things just as it provided them for other authors; an absolute concern for quality, a total attention to detail, an instinctive sense of the moment. In other hands Childsway would have been a different book, and Christopher Lytton would have been a different author, just as successful, perhaps, but different. He had allowed Lyttons to give birth to his career as an author – and was now rejecting them. And rejecting her. His leaving was a rejection of her. She knew him well enough to recognise that. At first, she had struggled without a great deal
Similar Books
