Familiar Rooms in Darkness

by Caro Fraser

  ‘I’m pretty sure she did.’ Compton-King stretched out his legs, rose and cast aside his towelling robe. ‘Time for a swim.’

  He strolled to the edge of the pool, contemplated the water, and then hurled himself in with a tremendous, splashing dive. Adam wiped drops of water from his face and knocked back the remains of his champagne. Through a mild haze of drunkenness crept a realization of the problems which these momentous revelations raised. This would all require careful investigation, and further conversation with Compton-King. This was something no one had ever known about Harry Day, and if they had, it had certainly never been made public before. The main problem lay with Cecile. It wasn’t the kind of thing one could just go ahead and publish, without consulting her. Good manners forbade it, and besides, Bella might never speak to him again. Bella… There lay problem number two… But how could he raise the subject with Cecile? What if she had never known?

  ‘Come on, have a dip,’ called Compton-King, surfacing at the side, his long hair streaming down his back.

  ‘I haven’t got anything. Trunks, I mean,’ said Adam uncertainly.

  ‘Oh God, you’re not at your local swimming pool, you know. Come in with nothing on, as far as I’m concerned.’ He plunged back into the water. Again, Adam wondered uneasily if Compton-King was gay. But, God, it was hot, and a swim felt like just the thing to clear the champagne muzziness from his head. How could he have let himself sit here and drink an entire bottle of champagne in under an hour? Chances were he’d be incapable of swimming. Still… He got up and divested himself of socks, shoes, trousers and shirt, leaving on his boxer shorts. Taking a deep breath, he dived in.

  Adam woke up on the long leather sofa in Richard Compton-King’s office three hours later. He recalled lying down there, a towel wrapped round his waist, but he had no recollection of falling asleep. He must have closed his eyes while Compton-King had been cataloguing his successes and failures in the music business by reference to the various gold and platinum discs which hung on his office walls, and the champagne and sun and swimming pool had done the rest. He passed a hand over his face. His head ached faintly, and his mouth tasted unpleasantly of stale wine. He glanced at his watch, alarmed to see how much time had passed. He got up, the towel and boxer shorts unpleasantly clammy against his thighs. He went to the door, shivering, and looked uncertainly up and down the passage which ran past the office, then made his way out to the sunlit silence of the swimming pool. His clothes still lay on the chair where he had dropped them. On the table the shambles of the champagne lunch remained untouched.

  As he finished dressing, Richard Compton-King came out, now fully clad in pressed chinos and a blue open-necked shirt. He looked remarkably fresh and sober for someone who had drunk as much as he had. Maybe that was an average lunch for Compton-King.

  ‘Feel better for your nap?’

  ‘I’m really sorry – it must have been the sun. You should have woken me up.’

  ‘Nonsense. At least now you’re more or less fit to drive. Coffee before you go? I’m on my way out, but Shona will make you some.’

  ‘No, thanks all the same.’ Adam picked up his tape machine from the table and put it in his pocket. ‘I’d best be getting back. Look–’ He paused uncertainly. ‘When I came here today, I hadn’t expected any of what you told me. As you can imagine, it’s very important for my book. Would you be prepared to talk to me again, elaborate on things?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t know how reliable my memory is for detail, mind you.’

  Adam stretched out his hand and Compton-King shook it. ‘Thanks for lunch. I’ll give you a call in the next few days.’

  Compton-King kept hold of Adam’s hand for a few seconds, the pressure firm and warm. ‘Do that. I would actually love to see you again.’

  By the time Adam got back to Baron’s Court it was nearly half five, and he would have given anything for an evening of peace and solitude in which to shake off his hangover, listen to the tape, and consider carefully where he went from here. He hoped that Megan had gone off for a drink with friends after work, as she occasionally did, and he would have the flat to himself. But no – there was Megan’s VW parked across the road under the plane trees.

  In the kitchen, Megan was unpacking bags of groceries. ‘I’m going to make us a fabulous supper,’ she said cheerfully. She’d been watching Jamie Oliver every week on television for the past month. ‘I hope you’re hungry.’

  Feeling quite unreasonably irritated, Adam replied, ‘I’m not, to be honest.’ It was true. He had no wish to eat anything at all. The sun and champagne had left him with a feeling of malaise. Never before had he wanted so badly to have the place to himself.

  Megan looked at him. ‘But I’ve bought all this stuff…’

  ‘I’ve had a heavy day.’ He was aware that his tone was unfriendly, and Megan caught this.

  ‘Heavy lunch, more like. Been out boozing with Giles?’ Megan started to slam things into the fridge.

  ‘Oh, get off my case! I’ve been working, as it happens. And I’m going to spend the rest of the evening doing the same. I’d be grateful if you didn’t disturb me.’

  He went into the bedroom and flung up the sash window. The air in the room was stale, touched with the cloying note of some perfume of Megan’s, which fiercely and unaccountably enraged him. He took his tape machine from his pocket and went into his study, closing the door behind him.

  An hour and a half later, he emerged to ask Megan to turn down the hi-fi. This escalated into a blazing row, which ended with Megan in tears, and Adam expressing a contrition he did not feel. When he came to bed around midnight, Megan was asleep, for which he was grateful. He crept beneath the duvet, pondering the events of the day. He had listened twice to the tape of his conversation with Compton-King, typing it up on the computer. He lay in the dark for a long time, thinking, and the last thing he decided before he fell asleep was that, before doing anything else, he would have to speak to Cecile.

  9

  Despite his resolve, Adam felt some trepidation when he rang Cecile the next morning. Her manner on the telephone was formal, restrained, and almost a little fearful. She could, he knew, have resisted any further intrusion entirely, but she agreed to see him – indeed, she suggested he come round that very afternoon. So after lunch he drove to Dulwich.

  ‘How are you?’ asked Adam, as she led him through to the same room where they had talked before.

  ‘Oh, quite well, thank you. I’ve been recording A Book at Bedtime for the BBC, and what with making the bridesmaids’ dresses for the wedding, and so on, I’ve really been very busy…’

  She closed the door and turned to face him. Adam realized that he couldn’t allow politeness to escalate to further, dizzying heights of unreality. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I feel I owe you some kind of apology. I want you to know that I had no intention of hurting anyone in your family. I simply found certain things out, and the rest took its course.’

  ‘Yes, well… Perhaps it was only to be expected.’ Cecile gestured for him to sit down. Her manner was still courteous and controlled. ‘I suppose in some strange way I’m rather grateful to you for what has happened. I had thought, at first, that it was all going to be quite cataclysmic, the end of everything good between Bella and Charlie and myself. Of course, I’m still not sure quite how they will feel in the long run…’ Her eyes moistened with quick tears.

  ‘They both love you very much. Nothing that has happened will change that.’

  She nodded swiftly. ‘No, I realize that. I’m just not sure if the worst has passed yet. I don’t know how long it takes to work these things out. It’s my fault for not telling them a long time ago. I know that.’ She sat down in a chair opposite Adam. ‘You know that Bella went to see the Kinleys?’

  ‘Yes. I went with her.’

  ‘Oh?’ Cecile looked surprised. ‘She didn’t mention that.’

  ‘I think she wanted – well, some kind of moral support.’

  ‘I see.’ C
ecile nodded. ‘She told me afterwards that she felt utterly no connection between herself and her mother. I was so relieved… it made me feel quite ashamed.’

  Adam said nothing. It wasn’t up to him to tell Cecile that Bella and Doreen Kinley had done nothing more than look at one another, without Mrs Kinley having any idea of who Bella was. Then again, he began to wonder what was up to him. Hadn’t he come here to unlock another family closet and bring forth the skeleton?

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ asked Cecile.

  ‘Please, don’t go to any trouble.’

  ‘I’m always grateful for an excuse to make tea.’ Cecile rose. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes.’

  Damn, thought Adam. Back came the politeness, the fragile decorum. When she came back, he’d have to start all over again. Best not to beat around the bush.

  Five minutes later, as she set down the tea tray, Adam said, ‘I’m surprised you agreed to see me, to be honest. After what’s happened, I thought you might no longer be particularly keen on helping with the biography.’

  She looked directly at him. ‘I don’t really care about events in the past being broadcast to the whole world. That’s what you journalists do, after all.’ She poured his tea and handed it to him. ‘No, my concern is only for the integrity of my family, to keep us close, to ride things out… Facts are as they are. I suppose we’re all stupid to try to conceal them. If I turned my back on this book, and on you, it wouldn’t do any good.’

  There was a silence. Adam stirred his tea. She sounded so resolute, almost as though she knew, or suspected, that he was going to broach some further hidden aspect of Harry’s life. He decided to be as direct as possible, whatever the risk of offence. ‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I’ll be frank with you. I have found a certain source, a man who was a friend of Harry’s back in the sixties, who says that at the time he knew Harry, he was having a number of affairs. With men.’

  Adam had no idea what her reaction might be. That was the worst of it. Either she knew or she didn’t. If she didn’t, then the enormity of what he had said… He waited, watched.

  Cecile merely dipped her head to sip her tea, then said quietly, ‘That’s quite true. I knew. I knew at the time.’ The gaze she fastened on Adam was a little defiant. ‘I didn’t mind. It wasn’t as though he were seeing other women, or having love affairs. I never felt threatened. They were just casual pick-ups, young men, so it was quite unimportant. It was only a sexual thing, you see. There was no… emotion involved. He didn’t care for any one of them. It’s not as though Harry was actually queer, you know. It was simply a habit he had picked up, a vice he had learned during the time he lived in Soho. These things can be learned, you know. I don’t care what the modern cant is about men being born that way. Perfectly normal young men can easily be corrupted. It happened to Harry. It was something he had to rid himself of. But it took time. I was a correcting influence, eventually.’

  Adam nodded wonderingly. Was she being embarrassingly naive, or had it perhaps really been like that? He remembered what Compton-King had said about the moral atmosphere of forty, fifty years ago, and realized he had simply no way of knowing how people conducted themselves then, or how things were. He put his hand in his pocket and drew out his tape recorder. Cecile eyed it. ‘Are you happy for me to tape our conversation?’ asked Adam.

  Cecile hesitated. ‘I suppose so.’

  He set the tape down on the table and switched it on. ‘Did you know any of them? Harry’s–’ He hesitated momentarily, floundering for the right word.

  ‘Boyfriends? God, no.’ Her voice was sharp with disgust.

  ‘Did you… did you and Harry ever discuss what he was doing?’

  ‘No. It was… well, I suppose “acknowledged” is the correct word. He had told me earlier on, before we were married, about himself.’

  ‘How did you feel when he first told you?’

  ‘Pretty appalled. In those days people didn’t talk about such things, not openly. Being in the theatre… well, one knew any number of homosexuals, but I suppose I wasn’t prepared… We had vowed to tell each other everything, the way people do – not keep anything back. It was very upsetting when he told me about his past, things he had done. But I was very much in love with him. He told me it was over and done with. I believed him. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise. When you’re in love, you do want to believe in the other person…’

  Her manner was still entirely composed, but something about the expression in her eyes made Adam hesitate before continuing.

  ‘And later… how did you find out that it was still carrying on?’

  ‘Oh, I just guessed. The people he knew, some of the types he hung around with. He was very friendly with Joe Orton and that companion of his, Halliwell. There were evenings when he didn’t come home, and he said he was at such and such a place, and I found out later that he hadn’t been.’ She shrugged. ‘Little things. Little lies.’

  ‘Did you confront Harry about it?’

  She hesitated, then said, ‘It came up. We talked. I’d really rather not discuss it in great detail.’

  ‘It must have been something of a shock.’

  ‘Yes. But I overcame it. I was determined that it shouldn’t be a threat to our marriage. Harry didn’t want it to be. He saw it as an aberration, a kind of backsliding.It really was very difficult for him. As I said, it was a habit he had to break. And he did, in the end.’

  ‘Can I ask… forgive me if this is difficult… Did Harry’s bisexuality–’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t call it that. It was nothing of the kind.’

  ‘Fine. I’m merely trying to understand… Did his behaviour – I mean, did it have any bearing on the fact that you couldn’t have children?’ I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of work, thought Adam.

  The question brought spots of angry colour to Cecile’s withered cheeks. ‘Our marriage was perfectly normal, in the physical sense, if that’s what you’re implying. I have told you twice already that Harry dealt with his problem, overcame it. It had no relevance to the fact that we couldn’t have a family. The problem there lay with me.’

  Adam nodded. ‘This is a difficult conversation for both of us. I apologize if–’

  ‘I quite understand that you don’t mean to be offensive.’

  ‘It’s just that the truth often is just that. Offensive.’

  She gazed at him implacably. ‘Would you like some more tea?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She refilled his cup. ‘May I ask you – who was the third party who told you about this?’

  Adam hesitated. ‘Someone called Richard ComptonKing.’ He watched and waited.

  ‘Ah, yes…’ Her face gave nothing away.

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘I haven’t seen him in – what? Nearly thirty years? But, yes, I remember him.’

  A thought occurred to Adam for the first time, and he wondered why it hadn’t struck him before. ‘Was he one of Harry’s lovers?’

  Cecile looked at him in astonishment and burst into a peal of genuine laughter. ‘Oh no – heavens, no!’

  Her evident amusement at this made Adam smile. The momentary change of mood was a mild relief. ‘Why is that so funny?’

  ‘Well…’ She smiled reflectively. ‘I think I would have known if that was the case. And I can assure you it was not. Anyway–’ Her smile faded as she set down her cup, ‘as I told you, the men involved were mere pick-ups. Quite faceless. I shouldn’t think he knew their names, ever.’ There was a pause of several seconds. ‘So you see, whatever you intend to make of this in your book, I’m afraid there are no personalities involved. No names. I imagine that is disappointing.’

  Cecile’s slant on things was quite different from Compton-King’s in more ways than one. Not the remotest suggestion that her marriage to Harry had been one of mere convenience. Far from it. Not that Adam had any intention of telling Cecile. He shrugged. ‘It’s another aspect of Harry’s life. That’s where my interest
lies. Everything else that follows is incidental. This biography isn’t intended to be–’ He paused.

  ‘A muck-raking exercise?’

  ‘Just the truth,’ said Adam. ‘That’s all I’m after.’ He reached across and switched off his tape recorder. He had the impression this couldn’t be pursued much further– not with Cecile, at any rate. ‘Thank you for being so frank.’

  ‘Not at all. I really think the whole thing is quite trivial, actually. It lasted only a couple of years into our marriage. It was all well over by the time the twins arrived. Not really worth making much of a fuss about in your book, I wouldn’t have thought.’

  Adam made no response to this. Instead he asked, ‘I wonder – not that there’s any reason why you should know the answer – but do you suppose Briony knows anything about this?’

  ‘Briony? I’m sure I have no idea.’ The look she gave Adam was cold and defensive. ‘Harry may have told her. Or he may have regarded it all as too trivial, too far in the past. You’d have to ask her.’

  Adam nodded thoughtfully. He’d taken this as far as he could. It had plainly been difficult for her, and for that he was sorry. But the task he had undertaken was a serious one, and he had to pursue it in a professional manner. Would he have undertaken it, if he had known at the outset how much pain might be involved? He had no idea. He put his tape recorder back into his pocket and, in an attempt to relax the atmosphere between them, said, ‘I take it you’ve been to see Bella’s play?’

  ‘Of course.’ Cecile’s eyes brightened at the thought of Bella. ‘I went on the opening night. It’s hard to say whether it will be any kind of a success. I don’t think the play has ever been staged before, so it’s something of a leap in the dark. They televised it back in the sixties, but I didn’t see it. Orton is difficult, I always think… How can one tell when the time is right for a revival?’

  ‘Perhaps we’ll be seeing some of Harry’s plays in the West End soon.’