“Sir Keith was in London. But Louise had gone over to Kington to visit Oscar Bantock. ‘She sees quite a lot of him,’ Sarah said. ‘I suppose there’s nobody else she can discuss Expressionism with.’ I didn’t make anything of it at first. Sarah was going to Scotland at the end of the week for a holiday with some other lawyers from King’s. Her parents were off to their villa in Biarritz at the same time. Rowena would join them there when her school broke up for the summer. All very cosy and convenient.
“We had some tea back at The Old Parsonage. Then I left, not sure what to do next. But, driving back to Cambridge, I suddenly saw the answer. Louise hadn’t told anyone about me. Why? Because she felt sorry for me? Or because she was afraid her husband mightn’t think she was a wholly innocent party? Maybe he already had grounds for suspicion. About Oscar Bantock, perhaps. Or somebody else. Maybe they weren’t the devoted couple she’d claimed.
“It’s strange, but I think I could have eventually accepted her rejection of me if I’d gone on believing she was a faithful wife. It was the idea she might not be that got to me. If she was going to betray her husband, the warped logic of my mind said it ought to be with me. Not with some derelict old painter or God knows who else. She wasn’t being fair. She wasn’t giving me a chance.
“I didn’t go back to Sapperton. With Sarah there, it was just too risky. Besides, I didn’t need to. She’d told me where I could find her mother. All summer long. I met up with Peter in London on Wednesday. We set off for Europe the following day. We spent a long weekend in Paris, then headed for Italy. I said I wanted to stop off in the French Alps, knowing Peter was champing at the bit to see Florence and Rome. After an argument in Lyon, we agreed to split up. He went on to Italy. I made for Chamonix. Well, that’s where I told him I was going. Actually, I returned to Paris and caught a train to Biarritz.
“I arrived there late on Thursday the twelfth of July. Booked into a cheap pension near the station. Next day, I tracked down L’Hivernance and hung around, hoping to see Louise leaving on foot. Or Sir Keith leaving, so I’d know she was alone. Nothing. Except they drove out together in the early evening. Heading for some posh restaurant, I assumed. I gave up. But I was back the next day, determined to be more resourceful. After I was sure everything seemed quiet, I scaled a wall round the side and crept through the garden towards the house. There was nobody about. But, as I got closer, I heard voices coming from one of the open ground-floor windows. Closer still, I recognized one of them as Louise’s. The other was Sir Keith’s. They were arguing. I can’t tell you what pleasure-what hope-that gave me. If they were going to split up, I might catch her on the rebound.
“I never did get close enough to hear exactly what was said. But it was obvious Sir Keith was angry. He mentioned Bantock. ‘That bloody dauber,’ he called him. And he said he was leaving next day. ‘So what you do is your affair, isn’t it?’ I couldn’t catch Louise’s answer. She spoke more softly than him. Kept her anger in check. Anyway, some gardener showed up then, so I had to run for it. By the time he spotted me, I was disappearing over the wall.
“But I’d found out what I wanted to know. They were at each other’s throats. And Sir Keith was going away. Clearing the path for me. I was back early on Sunday, waiting to see him go. He was in no hurry. It was midday before he left. By taxi. With a couple of cases on board. I couldn’t believe my luck. Louise would be vulnerable and upset, I reasoned. In need of sympathy. In need of love.
“I decided to wait until evening. Turning up straight after Sir Keith’s departure might look suspicious. It was a sunny afternoon. The beaches were crowded. I shuffled around, kicking my heels and eating ice-creams. At one point, a girl tried to pick me up. All pout and swaying hips. I should have fancied her, I suppose. But she just seemed so pathetically immature compared with Louise. They all did then.
“By dusk, the beaches were empty. I started back for L’Hivernance. But, before I got there, I saw Louise. She was out by the waterline on the Plage Miramar, walking slowly, lost in thought it seemed. I went down to the sea wall and watched her from the covered alleyway beneath the terrace of the Hôtel du Palais. She just walked up and down the same length of sand as the breakers rolled in and night fell. I intended to intercept her on her way back to the villa. But when it was nearly dark and she still showed no sign of coming in, I decided to go out to her.
“She didn’t notice me as I approached. She was looking out to sea, gazing at the last few streaks of sunset beyond the horizon. When I was only a few yards from her, she slipped her wedding ring from her finger, drew back her arm and threw it as far as she could out into the waves. I pulled up in amazement, unable to believe she’d done such a thing. Then she turned round. And saw me.
“‘Paul!’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’ It’s funny. She didn’t seem particularly surprised to see me. I made my prepared speech about being unable to stay away. About being deeply in love with her. And about being sure she needed a friend-perhaps more than a friend-now her marriage was failing. She must have realized then I’d been spying on her. But she wasn’t angry. ‘I can’t talk to you now, Paul,’ she said. ‘I have too much on my mind. But come to L’Hivernance tomorrow morning about eleven o’clock and we will talk. Properly.’ Then she kissed me. Just a formal fleeting kiss on the cheek. But it was enough to make me think I was at long last breaking down her defences. I watched her walk away, my mind racing to imagine what would happen when we met again. This time at her instigation.
“I called at L’Hivernance on the dot of eleven the following morning, wearing a jacket and tie I’d bought less than an hour before and clutching a bunch of flowers. I was nervous and uncertain. But I was also excited and expectant. Not for long, though. The housekeeper who answered the door told me Louise had left for England early that morning, saying nothing about an appointment with me. I was dumbstruck. Too horrified to speak. I stumbled off in the direction of the lighthouse and took one of those narrow winding paths down towards the shore. At first, I didn’t know what to think. Then it came to me. She’d tricked me. Fobbed me off for the short time it took to pack up and go. I hurled her flowers into the sea and wept. Then rage replaced despair. She’d trampled on my pride. She’d deceived me along with her husband. Well, I’d make her pay for that.
“I knew where she’d gone. Kington. To be with Bantock. By car and plane, she’d get there long before I could. But that didn’t seem to matter. Just so long as I caught up with her in the end. I rushed back to my pension, packed, booked out and made for the station. Where I found I had more than two hours to wait for the next train to Paris.
“All the time I waited, my determination to confront Louise with the evidence of her treachery grew. Of course, the only thing she’d really betrayed was the fantasy I’d woven around her. Nothing else. She didn’t owe me anything, least of all an explanation. Making an appointment with me she had no intention of keeping was just a sensible way of getting me off her back. And the state of her marriage was absolutely none of my business. I see that now very clearly. But back then I saw nothing clearly. Least of all what I’d do when I finally found her.
“It took me twenty-two hours to travel from Biarritz to Kington by train, ferry and bus. Paris. Dieppe. Newhaven. London. Newport. Hereford. I killed time in them all on the way. Eventually, at one o’clock the following afternoon-Tuesday the seventeenth of July-I clambered off a bus in the middle of Kington.