Mona sat very still. ‘
“It’s impossible,” she said after a few moments.
Char raised her eyebrows.
“Jewellery has never fetched better prices. It’s lucky that your cousin Lionel had such excellent taste in emeralds and diamonds!”
Mona clenched her hands together to prevent herself from hitting Char across the face. There was something in the sneering mouth that besmirched the memory of those moments when Lionel had given her his presents – jewels that now took on the form of payment rather than what they had been at the time –precious gifts, not for their intrinsic value, but because they crystallised moments of happiness. There was something degrading in thinking of Lionel’s gifts being sold to pay Char for her silence. Something horrible in the idea of the love that she had given Lionel so willingly, so generously, being translated into terms of cash.
“Blackmail is a nasty word, Char.”
“I quite agree with you,” Char said affably. “It’s a word I never use, although it merely boils down to being a matter of business.”
There was a long silence.
“And supposing…” Mona said at length, “supposing I give you this money? What guarantee have I got that you won’t ask for more and yet more in the future?”
“I can always give you my word of honour,” Char said, and grinned.
The grin was that of a gargoyle, something evil and something inexpressibly frightening.
‘I’m caught!’ Mona thought desperately. ‘Char has got me and she knows it.’
Wildly, desperately, she tried to think of a way out, an escape – but there was only a future made hideous by Char, sitting there doubled up like a sick monkey, her mouth wide in a grinning smile and in her eyes the greedy light of easy victory.
Fifteen
The door opened suddenly and both women started. Mrs. Vale came into the room in her dressing gown.
“Is anything the matter, darling?” she asked. “I heard someone go downstairs.”
Mona answered quickly.
“No, nothing, Mummy. Char wanted a drink, that was all.”
Mrs. Vale looked from her daughter to Char and back again to Mona.
“How silly of me to be anxious.”
“I’m sorry if we woke you.”
“Oh, I wasn’t asleep,” her mother replied. “My cough’s been rather troublesome. Was the party amusing? I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”
“Yes, it was a splendid effort on Michael’s part,” Mona replied, “but I’ll tell you about it in the morning Mummy. Do go back to bed now. It’s so cold and I don’t want you laid up.”
She put her arm round her mother’s shoulders and almost pushed her from the room. Char had said nothing, she had merely sat in her chair by the fireplace and stared into the fire. Mona wondered how much her mother had overheard, their raised voices must have reached her across the passage. She took Mrs. Vale back to bed and tucked her in.
“Would you like some hot milk?” she asked. “I can easily run downstairs and get you some.”
“I don’t want anything, thank you darling,” her mother replied.
But Mona felt that she looked at her with a puzzled expression in her eyes.
“Now go to sleep,” she commanded and bent down to kiss her mother’s cheek.
She looked very frail, lying there in the big double bed, her hair nearly as white as the pillow behind it.
‘Anything is better,’ Mona thought desperately, ‘anything than letting her be unhappy.’
She realised suddenly that her mother was the only person left in the whole world of whom she was really fond and the only person who really loved her. It was strange to think that all the men who had meant so much in her life had gone. So many had loved her and yet now, at this moment, the only love on which she could rely, the only love that was given her wholeheartedly and selflessly, came from her mother.
“Good night darling,” she said from the door, “and God bless you.”
As she spoke she wondered why the conventional phrase came to her lips and yet she meant it. She did indeed believe that God would bless this mother of hers who had been unswervingly loyal and true through all the years of separation and neglect.
She went back to her own room to find Char still sitting before the fire, a fresh whisky-and-soda in her hand. Brusquely, Mona picked up the decanter and the siphon and put them outside the door.
“There’s nothing to be gained by talking all night,” she said, “besides, we shall disturb Mother. I’ll tell you my decision in the morning.”
“All right,” Char said and got to her feet. She turned towards the door, then stopped. “I don’t want to lose your friendship, Mona.”
Mona laughed, a bitter, humourless sound.
“Really Char, if this is your idea of friendship, it isn’t mine.”
Char stuck out her lower lip in a sulky expression that Mona knew well.
“I’ve got to live, you seem to forget that. I’m sorry it’s come to this. I’d rather have taken the money from Jarvis Lecker.”
