A Fall from Grace - Maggie Ford (have you read this book TXT) 📗

she caught the look on Anthony’s face, instantly reading the thought in his mind. ‘Don’t fall ill. I couldn’t bear it if you left me.’

His love hadn’t died. It had all been in her mind. Yet instead of being given reassurance of their love, it seemed to tear her heart to pieces.

‘Please dear God,’ came the silent answering prayer, as she managed a wan smile, ‘don’t let him go down with ’flu. He does love me and I couldn’t bear to lose him, not now. What would I do if that were to happen?’

He, gone forever… She, James’s wife until the end of her days… It almost made her cringe, wanting only to fall into Tony’s arms, declare her love. Instead she merely smiled hearing herself repeat, ‘I’m fine – really I am.’

The weeks had gone by and she hadn’t seen or heard from him at all. She had tried telephoning him at home, but he never seemed to be there. Contacting his bank, the message was always that he was unavailable. Whether that was true or the staff was told to tell her that, she had no way of finding out. She had written to him but there was never a reply.

‘Have you heard from Anthony lately?’ she casually asked James over breakfast two weeks after the funeral.

He looked up from slicing off the top of his boiled egg. ‘Only to say how grateful he was for all we did during his mother’s illness. I read it out to you, remember?’

Yes, she did remember, but it had merely begun with Dear Aunt and Uncle. Nothing for her at all much less mentioning her by name.

‘And for supporting him at the funeral,’ James finished. ‘As if we would dream of not attending – my own grieving nephew.’

He smiled faintly at his sad little quip and returned to dealing with his egg.

Wanting so much to take the subject further but fearing to betray her feelings, she let it go at that. But after some two weeks of silence from Tony, her anxiety getting the better of her, she dared to venture that she hoped he was all right.

James took it innocently. ‘I expect he doesn’t think it right to bother us with his private grief. I expect he is sinking himself in his work. Nothing like work to keep the mind off one’s loss.’

‘What if he’s gone down with the ’flu and won’t or can’t tell us?’

‘If he’d gone down with it, we would have been told immediately.’

‘We should go and see him though. It looks so churlish to stay away. After all anyone who’s bereaved needs other people.’

‘I shall telephone him, my dear. But now I must be off to my office. You mustn’t let yourself worry over people.’

He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, adding, ‘You worry yourself too much over others, my dear. I shall see you tonight. Have yourself a nice day with your friend, and don’t exert yourself too much with this Whitsun party of yours.’

She’d told him she was seeing one of her many friends that day so that they could go over her plans for the party she intended to throw at Whitsun. Since her secret meetings with Anthony she’d rather let her social life slip, Easter’s soirée being the last of any importance and that not as exciting as it should have been with her mind more on herself and Anthony.

On her way to see May Caldwell-Bell, who’d become a helpful friend and organizer of parties over the years, she turned off and directed the taxi driver to Anthony’s home.

‘The master must have mentioned to his uncle that he would be going to Scotland for a while,’ she was informed by the butler, who answered her ring of the bell. ‘He said he rather needed an old friend to stay with a short while to help him recover from his loss rather than worry his relations.’

Madeleine wanted to blurt out that he hadn’t told them a thing, but she merely nodded, said she must have forgotten, and hurried away saying she was late for an engagement.

Why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t he written? She was hardly able to concentrate on the plans for Whitsun, leaving May to frown and ask if she was feeling well. What excuse she made for her lack of concentration she couldn’t recall. When James came home she asked him if Anthony had told him where he would be for the next few weeks. He looked surprised at first then recollection seemed suddenly to dawn.

‘Ah, I remember now. He telephoned me at my office – completely slipped my memory. I meant to tell you but we’ve been so busy – business quite brisk now the war is over, even though the country is feeling the pinch. Still we can only be on the up and up – not like Germany, people starving, the German mark not worth a pfennig these days, people having to buy the smallest item with no less than a basketful of worthless marks.’

So jovial, so much unnecessary detail… It allowed the old suspicion to creep into Madeleine’s mind that he must have some inkling of her relationship with Anthony, and it led her to believe he was biding his time but in the meantime was unable to resist the odd jab.

It was autumn. The Whitsun soirée had gone off better than expected, as had her party for James’s birthday as well as the huge fifth of November firework party, all thanks to May who had done most of the planning, revelling in it, while Madeleine found it hard to concentrate.

She and James had gone away to the South of France for almost two weeks, which included the August Bank Holiday. On the beach and by the pool, she had sat under a sunshade most of the time preferring her skin unblemished by strong sunlight, contrary to the new craze of proving one could afford to holiday abroad by exhibiting as