Lorna Shipton removed her disapproval from me long enough to tell Henry not to have cream and sugar on his strawberries or she would have no sympathy if he put on weight, had a heart attack, or developed pimples. Henry looked resignedly at the forbidden delights which he wouldn’t have eaten anyway. God preserve me, I thought, from marrying a Lorna Shipton.
By the coffee-brandy-cigar stage the tranquil seating pattern had broken up into people dashing out to back their hopes in the first race and I, not much of a gambler whatever Mrs Shipton might think, had wandered out onto the balcony to watch the Queen’s procession of sleek horses, open carriages, gold, glitter and fluttering feathers trotting like a fairy tale up the green course.
‘Isn’t it splendid,’ said Judith’s voice at my shoulder, and I glanced at the characterful face and met the straight smiling eyes. Damn it to hell, I thought, I’d like to live with Gordon’s wife.
‘Gordon’s gone to bet,’ she said, ‘so I thought I’d take the opportunity... He’s appalled at what happened... and we’re really grateful to you, you know, for what you did that dreadful day.’
I shook my head. ‘I did nothing, believe me.’
‘Well, that’s half the point. You said nothing. In the bank, I mean. Henry says there hasn’t been a whisper.’
‘But... I wouldn’t.’
‘A lot of people would,’ she said. ‘Suppose you had been that Alec’
I smiled involuntarily. ‘Alec isn’t unkind. He wouldn’t have told.’
‘Gordon says he’s as discreet as a town-crier.’
‘Do you want to go down and see the horses?’ I asked.
‘Yes. It’s lovely up here, but too far from life.’
We went down to the paddock, saw the horses walk at close quarters round the ring and watched the jockeys mount ready to ride out onto the course. Judith smelled nice. Stop it, I told myself. Stop it.
‘That horse over there,’ I said, pointing, ‘is the one Calder Jackson said he cured. Cretonne. The jockey in bright pink.’
‘Are you going to back it?’ she asked.
‘If you like.’
She nodded the yellow silk roses and we queued up in good humour to make the wager. All around us in grey toppers and frothy dresses the Ascot crowd swirled, a feast to the eye in the sunshine, a ritual in make-believe, a suppression of gritty truth. My father’s whole life had been a pursuit of the spirit I saw in these Royal Ascot faces; the pursuit and entrapment of happiness.
‘What are you thinking,’ Judith said, ‘so solemnly?’
‘That lotus-eaters do no harm. Let terrorists eat lotus.’
‘As a steady diet,’ she said, ‘it would be sickening.’
‘On a day like this one could fall in love.’
‘Yes, one could.’ She was reading her race-card over-intently. ‘But should one?’
After a pause I said, ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Nor do I.’ She looked up with seriousness and understanding and with a smile in her mind. ‘I’ve known you six years.’
‘I haven’t been faithful,’ I said.
She laughed and the moment passed, but the declaration had quite plainly been made and in a way accepted. She showed no awkwardness in my continued presence but rather an increase of warmth, and in mutual contentment we agreed to stay in the paddock for the first short race rather than climb all the way up and find it was over by the time we’d reached the box.
The backs of the jockeys disappeared down the course as they cantered to the start, and I said, as a way of conversation, ‘Who is Dissdale Smith?’
‘Oh.’ She looked amused. ‘He’s in the motor trade. He loves co make a splash, as no doubt you saw, but I don’t think he’s doing as well as he pretends. Anyway, he told Gordon he was Looking for someone to share the expense of this box here and asked if Gordon would be interested in buying half the box for Today. He’s sold halves for the other days as well. I don’t think he’s supposed to, actually, so better say nothing to anyone else.’
‘No.’
‘Bettina’s his third wife,’ she said. ‘She’s a model.’
‘Very pretty.’
‘And not as dumb as she looks.’
I heard the dryness in her voice and acknowledged that I had myself sounded condescending.
‘Mind you,’ Judith said forgivingly, ‘his second wife was the most gorgeous thing on earth, but without two thoughts to rub together. Even Dissdale got tired of the total vacancy behind the sensational violet eyes. It’s all very well to get a buzz when all men light up on meeting your wife, but it rather kicks the stilts away when the same men diagnose total dimness within five minutes and start pitying you instead.’
‘I can see that. What became of her?’
‘Dissdale introduced her to a boy who’d inherited millions and had an IQ on a par with hers. The last I heard they were in a fog of bliss.’
From where we stood we couldn’t see much of the race, only a head-on view of the horses as they came up to the winning post. In no way did I mind that, and when one of the leaders proved to carry bright pink Judith caught hold of my arm and shook it.
‘That’s Cretonne, isn’t it?’ She listened to the announcement of the winner’s number. ‘Do you realise, Tim, that we’ve damned well won?’ She was laughing with pleasure, her face full of sunshine and wonder.
‘Bully for Calder Jackson.’
‘You don’t trust him,’ she said. ‘I could see it in all your faces, yours and Henry’s and Gordon’s. You all have the same way of peering into people’s souls: you too, though you’re so young. You were all being incredibly polite so that he shouldn’t see your reservations.’
I smiled. ‘That sounds disgusting.’
‘I’ve been married to Gordon for nine years,’ she said.
There was again a sudden moment of stillness in which we looked at each other in wordless question and answer. Then she shook her head slightly, and after a pause I nodded acquiescence: and I thought that with a woman so straightforwardly intelligent I could have been content for ever.
‘Do we collect our winnings now or later?’ she asked.
‘Now, if we wait awhile.’
Waiting together for the jockeys to weigh-in and the all clear to be given for the pay-out seemed as little hardship for her as for me. We talked about nothing much and the time passed in a flash; and eventually we made our way back to the box to find that everyone there too had backed Cretonne and was high with the same success. Calder Jackson beamed and looked modest, and Dissdale expansively opened more bottles of excellent Krug, champagne of Kings.
Escorting one’s host’s wife to the paddock was not merely acceptable but an expected civility, so that it was with a benign eye that Gordon greeted our return. I was both glad and sorry, looking at his unsuspecting friendliness, that he had nothing to worry about. The jewel in his house would stay there and be his alone. Unattached bachelors could lump it.
The whole party, by now markedly carefree, crowded the box’s balcony for the big race. Dissdale said he had staked his all on his banker, Sandcastle; and although he said it with a laugh I saw the tremor in his hands which fidgeted with the race glasses. He’s in too deep, I thought. A bad way to bet.
Most of the others, fired by Dissdale’s certainty, happily clutched tickets doubling Sandcastle every which-way. Even Lorna Shipton, with a pink glow on each bony cheekbone, confessed to Henry that just for once, as it was a special day, she had staked five pounds in forecasts.
‘And you, Tim?’ Henry teased. ‘Your shirt?’
Lorna looked confused. I smiled. ‘Buttons and all,’ I said Cheerfully.