Dubious Legacy

by Mary Wesley

  ‘Does he not dare go near her?’ murmured Calypso.

  ‘I wouldn’t in his shoes,’ said Hector. ‘She’s ousted the virgins rather effectively.’

  ‘I was enjoying the spectacle they made,’ said Calypso, watching the diners rearrange themselves.

  ‘Dear Jonathan,’ said Margaret as her cavaliers took their seats, ‘and dear John.’

  ‘You were snooping!’ said John.

  ‘Listening,’ said Margaret, ‘wondering whether I would be welcome.’ She looked down the table at Henry, who had found a seat next to Calypso previously occupied by Ebro.

  ‘Quite a turn-up for the book,’ he remarked as he sat down.

  ‘She is a beautiful woman,’ said Calypso. ‘It’s not only the candle-light.’

  ‘And she is making herself agreeable to the boys,’ said Hector, surprised.

  ‘And she has silenced Peter and Maisie,’ said Calypso.

  ‘She can be agreeable,’ said Henry. ‘It’s been known.’

  At the head of the table Margaret was smiling as Jonathan on her right heaped her plate with fruit while John on her left scattered sugar and poured cream.

  ‘The two girls,’ said Hector, laughing, ‘are looking pretty, too, sitting back with their men. We enjoyed watching them casting themselves at your head.’

  ‘Net practice,’ said Henry. ‘The slow bowl.’

  ‘It’s had the desired effect,’ said Calypso. ‘Both James and Matthew look smug and possessive.’

  Henry said, ‘Ah, possessive,’ and appraised Antonia and her friend.

  ‘Hector is possessive,’ said Calypso. ‘I recognize possessiveness when I see it.’

  ‘She likes it said Hector. ‘Have you ever been possessive, Henry?’

  ‘Yes.’ Henry frowned. ‘But it was half-hearted, a mistake. I desisted. It was in the nature of a bad taste joke, an act,’ he said, wincing at an unpleasant recollection.

  Sensing his hurt and recognizing a private pain, Calypso said, ‘We trip ourselves up when we are bored.’

  Gratefully, Henry said, ‘That’s it, yes. I was bored, I wanted something to happen. It backfired,’ and enlightened them no further.

  Catching his wife’s eye, and switching the subject back to their fellow guests, Hector said, ‘One wonders whether those two fellows will be sufficiently heavyweight for their girls, whether they will come up to scratch.’

  ‘Women don’t always want perfect husbands,’ said Calypso. ‘The imperfect allow more scope. I say,’ she said, ‘I think we had better listen to this—’

  Others were listening: Maisie open-mouthed, Peter frowning, Antonia and Barbara leaning towards Margaret. A question had been asked by James. Why had Margaret married Henry? He was to excuse himself later, explaining that his hostess had asserted that she had always despised Henry, that he was mean, insensitive and a moral coward. How the subject of Margaret’s union with Henry had arisen nobody afterwards was clear. They all, however, heard Margaret say, ‘I was sorry for him.’

  In the ensuing silence Margaret assessed her audience.

  Antonia said, ‘Go on.’

  Barbara gaped but said nothing.

  Matthew said, ‘I think—’

  Antonia said, ‘Shush.’

  James was mute.

  Margaret said, ‘I had been married to a brute. He not only beat me, he subjected me to psychological violence. He spent my money, he flaunted his women, he drank. And worse, he took drugs.’

  James sucked in his breath and released it. ‘Phew!’

  Jonathan murmured, ‘You poor, poor thing.’ His lover was heard to say, ‘Matrimonial martyrdom.’

  Margaret took a spoonful of strawberries. ‘Not enough sugar,’ she said, and John tenderly helped her to more. ‘I was a good wife.’ Margaret took a mouthful of fruit. ‘That’s better. I considered him too much. I was subservient.’ She spooned in the fruit. ‘I tried my best. I bore it, but my love shrivelled. He did things to me which I could not even whisper to my confessor—the indignities!’

  ‘Never knew she was a Catholic,’ muttered Hector, who was of that persuasion.

  ‘Finally,’ said Margaret, laying down her spoon and letting her voice rise, ‘I had had enough. I divorced him.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said Jonathan. ‘More fruit?’

  Margaret, ignoring him, said, ‘I am a romantic.’

  John said, ‘Of course you are, dear. And then?’

  ‘Well then, when Henry laid siege with little notes, with pretty presents, with expensive flowers, with—with—well, as I have admitted before, with such persistence it amounted to pestering, I gave in. And look,’ said Margaret, her voice suddenly harsh, ‘at what I got.’

  The candles were guttering by now, their light wavery, but Margaret’s audience were able to see the look of bane she gave her husband.

  Peter jeered. ‘A mean, insensitive moral coward, a monster. Drunk and enjoying himself.’

  Pilar rose and asked, ‘Coffee, Henry?’

  Henry said, ‘Yes, please, Pilar. And fresh candles, if we have them.’ Then he said to Calypso and Hector, ‘Come round the garden with me, we’ve heard the best of it.’ He was laughing.

  As she got to her feet Calypso said, ‘I don’t think you should be laughing, Henry. It isn’t funny. Hector isn’t laughing.’

  Henry said, ‘But Hector is married to you,’ and stopped laughing. ‘Hector,’ he said as they walked away from the dining table, ‘would never have got himself into a ridiculous situation.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Hector. ‘My first marriage was a flop.’

  ‘But not ridiculous,’ said Henry. ‘You were unhappy. I am ridiculous. There’s a nuance which is hard to miss.’

  ‘I don’t think your wife makes you ridiculous,’ said Hector.

  ‘It isn’t my wife,’ said Henry shortly, ‘it is the person responsible for the whole bloody situation.’

  FIFTEEN

  BARBARA WHISPERED TO JAMES, ‘Must go to the lavatory, can’t wait. Listen carefully and tell me later.’

  James said, ‘Oh, all right, but don’t be long,’ keeping a fascinated eye on Margaret.

  Barbara slid from her chair and faded into the dark; James did not notice that she headed not for the house, but down the path after Henry and the Grants.

  Strolling between the two men, Calypso said, ‘You should do something, Henry, put a stop.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ Henry asked snappily.

  Calypso said, ‘You know I’m not given to prying. Hector knows more about your marriage than I do. He was in Cairo when you married—’

  ‘I know very little,’ Hector interposed. ‘I never—’

  ‘He never lets on, he’s discreet, he’s told me nothing,’ said Calypso. ‘But you can’t let your wife talk as she does. I do wish, Henry, that you would tell us something of what really happened. Then we might be able to help.’

  ‘I don’t see how you could,’ said Henry shortly.

  ‘We could at least stop that rot about her first husband. It’s so preposterous it can’t possibly be true.’

  ‘How did you guess?’ Henry began to laugh again.

  ‘It’s no laughing matter,’ said Calypso. ‘And now Hector’s laughing,’ she said. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘The first husband,’ said Henry. ‘A mouse of a man, wasn’t he, Hector?’

  ‘Nice little chap,’ said Hector. ‘Still alive, I believe, rather older than she is, works in the States.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Henry—’ Calypso’s clear voice carried back to Barbara. ‘Tell.’

  Thinking she would hear better if she closed in a little—Henry’s voice, deep and rumbling, was difficult to hear—Barbara quickened her pace as Henry said, ‘Oh, all right. There’s no point in shutting up, I suppose. Let’s go and sit over there and I will tell you the sordid tale. I take no pride in it.’

  As he spoke Barbara tripped over one of the dogs which, following at Henry’s heels, had paused to sit and scra
tch. The dog yelped and Barbara, stumbling forward, nearly fell.

  Hector said, ‘We have an eavesdropper.’

  Barbara exclaimed, ‘Oh gosh, have I hurt him? What’s this one called?’ as the dog jumped up and tried to lick her face. I wish I could die, she thought.

  ‘Their names are Humble and Cringe,’ said Henry nastily.

  ‘Last time somebody asked, you said they were called Spot and Rover,’ said Hector, thinking, Bloody stupid girl.

  Henry, regarding Barbara, said, ‘My dogs answer to Hi or any loud cry.’

  Calypso said, ‘You know what they say about listeners; we might have been discussing you, Barbara. That’s your name, isn’t it?’

  Barbara, choking, said, ‘I am too insignificant, I suppose,’ loathing the older woman.

  Henry said, ‘Now, now, no need to be unkind; she’s blushing and wishing herself dead. Come along,’ he said, taking hold of Barbara’s wrist, ‘we are going to sit on that seat over there while I strip the skeleton from my cupboard.’

  ‘You are hurting my wrist,’ said Barbara.

  ‘Splendid, glad to hear it,’ said Henry.

  ‘Who is being unkind now?’ murmured Hector.

  ‘Won’t your fiancé miss you?’ Calypso was chilly.

  ‘I am on my way to the lavatory,’ said Barbara desperately.

  ‘Then cross your legs and shut up,’ said Henry. ‘Here we will sit and watch the moon while I rattle my skeleton.’ He sat on the bench, pulling Barbara roughly down beside him.

  Hector grunted protestingly and muttered words to the effect that Henry was being unkind to young girls. He made room for his wife between himself and Henry.

  ‘I enjoy being unkind to young girls,’ said Henry. ‘I enjoy young girls.’

  ‘You told me he was flawed,’ said Calypso, speaking to her husband.

  ‘She might as well stay,’ said Henry more moderately. ‘It doesn’t really matter,’ he said. ‘We know that anything she might have heard would get garbled. She may as well begin her garbling from a truthful source. Learning the art of gossip at her age is as complex as learning the facts of life. Do you know the facts of life?’ he asked Barbara, tightening his grip on her wrist.

  ‘Of course I do.’ Barbara was close to tears.

  ‘Enough, Henry,’ said Calypso.

  ‘I would like to know,’ said Henry, ‘since you are here, exactly what my wife had been telling you and your equally nubile friend.’ He ignored Calypso.

  ‘She told us,’ said Barbara, speaking between her teeth, ‘that you are a sodomite and can only do it with horses.’

  Henry let go of her wrist. ‘I am sorry if I hurt you,’ he said. ‘I feel a bit winded,’ he said, turning to Hector. ‘The accusation isn’t new, but the esoteric combination is.’

  ‘Perhaps we could get back to the bones,’ said Calypso. ‘The contents of the cupboard.’

  ‘At least your wife gives you full marks for versatility,’ said Hector, lightening the atmosphere with a laugh. ‘Your truth will have to be a lot stranger than fiction to surprise us after that revelation.’ He chuckled again and murmured to himself, ‘Horses!’

  ‘Shut up, Hector.’ Calypso, too, tried not to laugh. ‘Now you’ve got to tell us,’ she said, curbing her mirth. ‘You were about to begin when Barbara here fell over Humble and Cringe.’

  ‘Their real names are Hector and Lysander,’ said Henry, ‘but when Hector comes to dinner—’

  ‘You prevaricate. What was the start of your dilemma?’

  ‘Love,’ said Henry morosely.

  ‘Love?’ Calypso’s voice rose in astonishment.

  Barbara muttered, ‘I must go, I—’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ Henry recaptured her wrist. ‘There was this girl I used to watch,’ he said. ‘She became an obsession. She was older than me, very lovely, always surrounded by adoring men. It began when I was thirteen or fourteen. Each time I saw her she was lovelier than before, more out of reach. I don’t think she noticed I was there, but I fantasized and dreamed and convinced myself that when I grew up and was free of acne I would marry her. At times I was sure she would be waiting. Lots of people have this juvenile experience.’

  ‘Is she still around?’ asked Hector.

  ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘Middle-aged by now?’

  Henry said, ‘That is the case.’

  Calypso said, ‘Stop interrupting. Go on, Henry.’

  ‘Where was I?’

  ‘You were imagining she would be in her perpetual prime. What happened?’

  ‘The war happened.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I was caught up in it. You can’t want my martial record. I found myself in Cairo.’

  ‘Stick to the love part. You must have been grown up, or nearly so; did you still have this obsession? Did you suppose she would still be there after you had finished with the war?’

  ‘Believe it or not, I did.’

  Calypso said, ‘Oh. Wouldn’t your mother have helped? I’m sure if Hamish ever got himself into a fix like that, I would get him out of it.’

  ‘My mother died in the thirties and after her death my father was caught up in the war in Spain, extracting Pilar and Ebro. He wasn’t actually ever of much practical use to me and not much of a letter-writer—’

  ‘He wrote letters to The Times,’ Calypso interrupted. ‘Very trenchant they were.’

  ‘But not to me,’ said Henry. ‘He had a theory that one should only write letters if one had something of vital importance to say. One must not clog the mail. That being so, if I did get a letter from him I paid special attention.’

  Somewhere in the garden a blackbird, disturbed by a marauding cat, set up a loud screech and chatter. Henry’s dogs sat up, ears pricked. In the silence which followed Calypso sighed and said, ‘So you got a letter?’

  ‘Two. One from the Jonathans, who wrote quite often. Sandwiched in their gossip was the news that my “amour”, as I thought of her, had got married. Before I read my father’s letter I went out and got drunk. I was drunk for several days. I happened to be on leave. When I read my father’s letter I was in a state of moribund alcoholic gloom.’

  Hector clicked his tongue. ‘I know the feeling.’

  Calypso said, ‘And what did your father say?’

  Letting go of Barbara’s wrist, Henry exclaimed, ‘It is so ridiculous, so inexcusable, so utterly crass. I—’

  Calypso said, ‘Come on, Henry.’

  Henry said, ‘Oh, dear God.’ Then he said, ‘My father wrote to tell me he was dying. He thought I should know. Not long, he said. Pilar was being wonderful and the Jonathans kindness itself, but there was one thing, this urgent idea he had of helping—You knew him, Calypso.’ Henry turned to her.

  ‘Oh God,’ said Calypso, ‘I did. Philanthropic and idealistic, an absolute menace. My parents, who were boringly sensible, thought he was insane. What was the idea? I suppose he passed the baton on to you?’

  Henry said, ‘That was what it amounted to. He wrote that he was concerned for innocents caught up in the war, particularly for unfortunates who were dubbed enemy aliens in error. He had heard of an Englishwoman who had married a German and, although now divorced, found herself in danger of being interned in Egypt; would I look her up? She was a friend of a friend of the Jonathans. A worthy cause, is what he called her.’ Henry paused, staring out across the moonlit garden.

  Beside him Barbara held her breath and thought, He has forgotten I am here. And Calypso, feeling for Hector’s hand for comfort, thought, This is spine-chilling.

  ‘My father wrote,’ Henry went on, ‘that it behoved everybody to do what they could in however small a way and quoted the kindness of an old neighbour who, recently widowed, had at his suggestion married a German Jewish lady. It was neither here, he wrote, nor there, as mischievously suggested by the Jonathans, that the poor man needed a cook/housekeeper. The Jonathans knew of an English poet who had offered to marry the daughter of a German writer. They themselves see
med unable to volunteer, but here, and he gave it, was the address. Before he had known he was dying he had intended proposing himself by cable, but in the circumstances it would be of little use, so would I—’

  ‘And it was Margaret,’ said Hector.

  Calypso said, ‘How could you have been so stupid?’

  Henry said, ‘I managed.’

  Hector said, ‘And I suppose you thought what the hell, I’ve lost my girl and I shall get killed anyway.’

  Henry said, ‘That sort of thing.’

  Calypso said, ‘The girl you were in love with should never have led you on.’

  ‘She didn’t. She hadn’t an inkling of my feelings.’

  Thinking of Henry’s father, Calypso murmured, ‘What a pity he didn’t die before he wrote that letter.’

  Excusing his parent, Henry said, ‘He had never done good by proxy before.’

  Hector said, ‘Margaret’s ex was German, an archaeologist. He’d lived and worked in Egypt all his life. His application for Egyptian nationality came through after he divorced Margaret, so she was left German while he was in the clear. People thought it frightfully funny. I wonder what his sexual deviations were.’

  ‘Nil,’ said Henry.

  ‘People liked him, though; he was dull but decent.’

  ‘No need for Margaret to expand on that,’ said Calypso, ‘I should have thought.’

  ‘But she does,’ said Hector. ‘And your aged pa is responsible for the mess you are in.’

  ‘I should have thought Jonathan and John were the ones to blame,’ said Barbara.

  ‘So you are still there,’ said Henry. ‘I’d forgotten you.’

  SIXTEEN

  ‘I THINK I HAD better go back, I am a neglectful host,’ said Henry. ‘See what’s cooking.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Don’t you two move if you are happy,’ he said to Hector and Calypso. Humble and Cringe rose as one dog, and Barbara rose too. Henry absently took her hand.

  Watching them go, Hector said, ‘I am bothered about that girl. Henry can be pretty bloody.’

  Calypso said, ‘It is more likely she will hurt him than he her.’

  Hector said, ‘Oh? That is possible,’ and, putting his arm round his wife’s shoulder, drew her close. He wondered whether she had guessed the identity of Henry’s infatuation.