Difficult Husbands

by Mary de Laszlo

  ‘Bit late for that, Christmas is any minute,’ he said, staring at the floor.

  ‘It’s for next Christmas,’ she said, prickled by panic, waiting for him to say he was going to be away for it this time.

  ‘Oh…Ok.’ He still stared at the floor, frowning a little, and she sensed there was something he wanted to tell her. She didn’t want to hear it; couldn’t bear him not to be here for Christmas because he wanted to escape from a father who lay like a bundle of dirty washing on the hall floor.

  She put a laden plate on the table and poured him out some orange juice and he came over and started to eat it. ‘Thanks, Mum, best food in ages,’ he said, with a mouth full. She sat down beside him and said, as casually as she could, ‘So where are you on your way to now? You said you were just passing through.’

  He blushed. A smile hovered on his lips, followed by a look of anxiety. ‘I’ve met a girl…’ he started, his eyes shining. ‘She lives in Islington, and well… the thing is, Mum,’ he burst out, ‘I wanted to ask her here for Christmas day. Her family celebrate the night before, so she’s with them then, and I thought she could come here, but…’ His eyes were agonised. ‘I can’t if...’ He glanced towards the hall.

  Here it was. The thing she dreaded. He was in love with a girl and wanted to bring her home but couldn’t, because of his drunk of a father. She might lose him and the joy he and his girl might bring.

  ‘Of course you can bring her home,’ she said firmly. ‘Dad’s not going to be here. He’s going to be with Stephen Sanderson and Ivan at Ravenscourt.’

  Justin looked incredulous. ‘You mean that house that Lorna’s just inherited? Why there and why just them?’

  She told him then, embellishing the state of the house a bit, explaining how Lorna, Rosalind and she were so afraid their children would stop coming home, because their fathers’ behaviour upset and embarrassed them so much. They understood that their children didn’t want to invite their friends back, and as for a girlfriend… She’d seen that shy joy on his face as he’d talked of her, perhaps it was the first time he’d fallen in love. He was nineteen and love was still new and magical and she would do all she could to nurture it.

  ‘What’s her name? Tell me how you met,’ she said, her hand on his shoulder. ‘Ask her for Christmas, we’ll have a lovely day. Uncle Peter, Aunt Liz and your cousins are coming and Dad will be with his best friends at Ravenscourt.’

  It will have to happen now, she thought fiercely, even if I have to tie Adrian up and dump him there. I cannot, will not, let Justin down.

  17

  Shooting The Brochure

  Lorna could not get Tess out of her mind. Having produced her own children so easily, it was difficult to imagine the agonies the poor woman had gone through to try and have a child. That must be bad enough in itself, but what would she feel when she found out that Flora had so carelessly fallen pregnant by her husband?

  Pretty, charming Flora. Much though she loved her, Lorna recognised that ruthless streak; the cute baby stamping her foot, screaming until she got her own way. Marcus never bothered to have tantrums; he either took what he wanted, with a steely look of determination in his eyes, or let it go. Was Flora going to be one of those tiresome girls who, grown out of snatching toys, snatched at other women’s men instead? It was an uncomfortable truth that children didn’t just inherit their relatives’ looks; they often inherited their characteristics too.

  Stephen’s mother had broken up a marriage, grabbing Stephen’s father from some perfectly nice woman and breaking her heart. To her relief, Lorna had not seen much of her mother-in-law when she was alive, as she lived in the US, and did not encourage visitors, but perhaps Flora had taken after her.

  ‘You’re very quiet, Lorna.’ Rosalind broke off from her discussion with Gloria about Christmas at Ravenscourt. Gloria looked exhausted but bullish. Almost as soon as she’d got into the car, she’d said, ‘We’ve got to make our mad plan work. Justin came home unexpectedly and found his father dead drunk, wedged in the hall. He wants to bring a girl he’s in love with for Christmas lunch, only he won’t if Adrian is there.’

  There followed a discussion, mostly between Rosalind and Gloria, on how to do it. Lorna didn’t say much, but there was a lot of traffic, and cyclists appearing from nowhere to contend with, which needed extra concentration.

  ‘Are you afraid our plans won’t work?’ Rosalind said.

  ‘Actually, I was thinking of something else. Did Gloria tell you about Tess coming to see us? Flora’s boyfriend’s wife.’

  ‘No, how dreadful, what happened?’ Rosalind craned forward so as not to miss a word.

  Lorna, with embellishments from Gloria, told her the sorry tale. ‘I just feel so much for her. She may be almost past childbearing while Flora’s at the beginning of it. It seems so wrong somehow.’

  ‘Life is never fair. Maybe Flora will give her the baby to care for while she’s at college, if she finds it cramps her life too much. Provided the marriage survives this, of course. How will you cope with that?’ Rosalind regarded Lorna keenly in the driving mirror. ‘Even though you are shocked at what has happened, you’re looking forward to having a grandchild, aren’t you?’

  ‘Sort of, though I’d rather have it some years away and when Flora is married and settled. But since meeting Tess, any joy I feel will be overloaded with guilt.’

  ‘Flora is your daughter and, however wrong it all may be, she is the mother of the baby and so can keep it,’ Gloria chipped in. ‘That’s why I’m determined to keep in with Justin. I don’t want him disappearing off and marrying or setting up home with a girl I hardly know because he’s too hurt and embarrassed by his father’s behaviour to bring her home.’

  ‘Why would Tess take the baby? It will just remind her of Ben’s infidelity? Once she knows about it, she might leave him anyway. I think I would,’ Lorna said. ‘I feel very upset that Flora could do such a thing.’

  Rosalind said. ‘Flora’s a sweet girl. I’m sure she didn’t mean to get so involved, or hurt his wife. She felt abandoned by her father and here was this man needing comfort too and before they knew it, there was a baby. He’s as much to blame as she is, even more so as he’s older and married.’

  ‘He may well have concocted some sob story about his wife not caring for him and Flora fell for it,’ Gloria said. ‘But it couldn’t have come at a worse time for you, love, with everything else.’ She patted her arm. ‘But we’re here to support you, all for one!’

  ‘Thank God for good friends,’ Lorna agreed, slowing down as they reached the lane leading to Ravenscourt.

  They passed through the ornate gates, which still held remnants of black paint, crusted over with rust. Once, these gates had guarded Ravenscourt’s privacy; only opened to favoured people by the gate man, who’d lived in a lodge that was no longer there. Now they stood open to all. Lorna drove through the guard of honour of oak trees, and there was the house; muted rose brick and scrambling creeper. The front door was open and there were various cars parked outside.

  ‘I’m dying to see what they’ve done to it.’ Gloria jumped out and made for the open door just as Nathan came out. He was wearing jeans and a dark blue jersey; his hair blown about, his face flushed from the wind. Gloria greeted him effusively with a kiss on each cheek, her hand, like a mark of possession, on his shoulder. Clara followed him. Her eyes were shining. She waved and almost ran towards them in her eagerness to say hello.

  Lorna hung back, overcome with a kind of shyness, not knowing how to greet Nathan, embarrassed about the emotions the sight of him evoked in her. He came over to her, smiling.

  ‘Lorna! It’s such a wonderful house, thank you so much for letting me use it.’ He reached out and she wondered if he was going to grab her, hug her to him, even cover her with kisses in his enthusiasm, but he did not. He just clasped her arm, babbling on like an excited schoolboy about the carved fireplace, the old mouldings and the elaborate staircase.

  ‘We took some shots
last night when it was dark. We wanted to achieve the old-fashioned look; you know, log fires, warmth and feasting. Now we’re using the daylight. Come and see. I do hope you approve.’ His voice was light, yet she detected a touch of defiance, as if to remind her that it was his shoot.

  ‘Sounds good, Nathan. It may be the same old illusion but even if they live in a minimalist box, I think most people still think of Christmas like that, sort of Scrooge and A Christmas Carol,’ Gloria said. Then, as if she couldn’t help the words escaping, she added, ‘We’ve an idea, you see, to have a party here.’

  Oh, no! Lorna nudged her. Why couldn’t Gloria keep quiet? This hare-brained plan seemed doomed, especially if she told everyone about it. She could imagine Nathan – and especially Beth – shrieking with laughter at their crazy scheme, and the thought made her cringe with embarrassment. All three of them may be under considerable strain with their difficult husbands – in her case ex-husband – but had it made them lose all sense of reason?

  Gloria turned to face her. ‘It’s OK,’ she mouthed, though she did look a bit sheepish.

  She annoyed Lorna further by moving closer to Nathan, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm and snuggling up to him in the most nauseating way, as she asked him how the shoot was going. Clara, standing beside her, said, ‘The house used to be like this in the old days, people coming and going all the time.’

  Lorna made some appropriate remark, while wishing she could bundle Gloria back into the car and drive back to London. She was about to remark on it to Rosalind, but she was now walking on Nathan’s other side, praising him, though Lorna didn’t know what for, as they hadn’t seen anything yet. Here they were, three women whose husbands were still causing them enough pain and upset for them to take a vow of celibacy forever, and at the first sight of another, half-decent man, they were all jumping round him like adolescent girls hot for a rap star, craving his attention.

  This overexcited group, with Clara close behind, danced up the few steps, through the front door and into the hall.

  Lorna picked up the bag of decorated cupcakes she’d taken from the shop last night, having spent much of the day making them. Martha, who was a wizard at cake decorating had iced them for her. She would arrange them somewhere among his food. She felt confident that Nathan would agree to include them; they certainly were very Christmassy.

  She went through the front door and into the hall. She had to admit that it did look wonderful. There was a long table in the centre laid with silver cutlery and tall wine glasses. Strategically-placed lighting picked up the soft sheen of the silver and the glass. In the centre of the table was a cornucopia of fruits, flanked by large bulbous glasses filled with sugar-covered almonds, Turkish delight, crystallized fruits and chocolates wrapped in gold foil. Garlands of evergreens twisted with claret red ribbons and matching glass balls were looped round the walls. Across the mantlepiece ran a swag of more evergreens; dark glossy leaves and the softer grey green of lavender wound round Christmas roses and tiny tangerines. Various people milled around moving lights, setting the scene, carrying cameras. Among them she saw Beth. As ever, she had a clipboard in her hand and was busy ticking off things. She looked strained but she threw her a tight smile.

  ‘Hi, Lorna. The house looks wonderful doesn’t it? Do you like it?’ She added this as if she didn’t care if Lorna liked it or not. But she had to admit that it was quite transformed, like a tramp after a makeover and put in evening dress.

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ she smiled at her, ‘it must have taken a lot of work.’ Beth nodded, intent on her clipboard.

  Nathan appeared beside her and she saw Beth look exasperated, as if she thought her redundant to the scene, and turn away. Nathan said, ‘We’ve got all these garlands and things here, as if it is a dinner party, then in the kitchen we’ve some sort of still life arrangements of the food we do. Come and see. It was Beth’s idea. It looks lovely, reminiscent of an old master picture.’ Nathan smiled at her, warming her heart.

  ‘Sounds good. I must say you’ve done an extraordinary job, all these decorations seemed to have lifted the gloom; raised the spirits of the house.’ Lorna said.

  ‘That’s what I thought. Surprising what a multitude of decay and destruction these pretty garlands cover, takes your eye away from them. Now come and see how the kitchen’s been transformed.’ He took her arm and they were about to go down the passage when Beth called to him.

  ‘Oh, Nat, can you spare a moment? What shall we do with the wine bottles?’ Beth called after him, darting towards him with a determined expression on her face.

  ‘Don’t worry, Nathan, I can find my own way, thanks.’ Lorna went on towards the kitchen. Although she’d expected it, she was finding it too much to see that they, or rather Beth, had taken over Ravenscourt; the house that caused her so much anxiety over what to do with it, how to rescue it. Despite her concern over it, it was growing on her and her anxiety was in danger of turning her into a spoilt child wanting to snatch it all up, clutch it tightly to her, and send everyone else away.

  She went down the gloomy passage to the kitchen which, to her relief, was empty. The two arrangements on the scrubbed pine table did resemble an old masterpiece. There were hams and a brace of peasants still with their glossy plumage, bright oranges and vegetables tucked around them. There was a pyramid of tiny mince pies, Christmas cakes, and three small Stilton cheeses, all arranged with bunches of herbs and bundles of cinnamon sticks tied together with ribbon, tucked in here and there. Her cupcakes would add a different touch, a kind of modern sweetmeat. She opened the two boxes she’d brought with her and carefully arranged them among the oranges, close to the mince pies. They looked perfect, the coloured icing, with a small scattering of silver stars, blending in with everything else.

  The spicy smell of the cakes and pies made her feel hungry. Perhaps she could eat one of those extra mince pies pushed in behind the pyramid? Surely no one would miss it?

  She imagined the soft crumbling pastry in her mouth, the burst of sweet fruit, but she couldn’t take one, not until the shoot was over. She stood back to admire it again, glad she’d brought her cakes, which she felt completed the tableau.

  Beside the triangle of Stilton and just behind the pyramid of mince pies stood an arrangement of Cox’s apples. One of them suddenly overbalanced and rolled off its companions. Unconsciously she shot out her hand to catch it. At the same moment she heard someone come in and Nathan say, ‘You can’t resist my food, can you?’ Her hand jerked upwards and the whole pyramid of mince pies collapsed, as the apples, like bowling balls, rolled everywhere, flooding her with horror and mortification.

  Before she could explain that she was trying to field the falling apples, they heard Beth coming along the passage calling out to Nathan. When she saw what had happened, she shrieked and dropped her clipboard, her face dark with fury.

  ‘You’ve sabotaged it, my lovely arrangement! It took me forever to do. How could you?’

  Nathan was saying something to her, but Lorna couldn’t take it in as Beth’s anger hit her. She tried to explain that she hadn’t caused it, was trying to save it, but Beth, overwrought, and overtired, threw all her feelings of exhaustion at her.

  ‘You never wanted to lend us this house did you? And now we’re here you are determined to ruin it … and what are those hideous things?’ she shrieked, pointing to the cupcakes.

  Her hysterics alerted the others and they all ran down the passage, crowding into the room, staring at Lorna in horror as if she were guilty of such destruction. She turned and fled through the scullery, out of the back door and into the garden. She would never go back; this was absolutely the end of everything.

  She ran along the side of the walled garden, dodging the nettles and brambles that rambled over the path. She reached the gate that led to a patch of woodland, opened it and ran in, hoping it would offer her protection and hide her way of escape. The ground was sludgy with years of discarded leaves; each layer banked down one on top o
f the other, throwing up a damp, earthy smell as her feet sunk into it. She picked her way through the dense undergrowth and the trees, some fallen, sticking up from the earth like the prows of wrecked ships. Ahead, she saw a fence broken by a stile and she climbed over it into a field laid fallow for the winter. The brown earth, fringed with grass, was stiff like corrugated cardboard. She walked on, keeping to the edges of the field, stumbling a little on the icy knots of grass that clung tenaciously to the earth.

  All the humiliations that had been heaped on her over the last months rose up like a tsunami to engulf her. Stephen leaving her and bringing their family and friends such embarrassment and pain; Flora breaking up someone else’s marriage and getting pregnant, right in the middle of her studies, with no hope of supporting herself. She could imagine the faces of some of the parents whose children had been to school with Flora, boasting of their own daughters’ progress while sneering at her for having a child who had got herself into such a mess. She shouldn’t care about what people she didn’t like, thought, but she did, and now, Nathan would think her a bitch for destroying that wretched still life Beth had put together so painstakingly.

  The wind snatched at her, thrusting through the chinks in her clothes. She was dressed in a cream shirt and jeans, and had left her coat in the car. Perhaps she’d die of cold and they’d find her stiff and still in the ditch and they’d be sorry, she thought with the anguish of a child.

  She paused a moment, her legs tired from pounding over the rough earth. She was slightly breathless, the sharp air chafing at her face. She looked out over the Sussex Downs; banks of land falling in gentle folds, clothed in trees that had been there forever. Why did she let the pettiness of life get at her when there was all this beauty? She drank it in and it calmed her raging emotions. What did it matter what Beth thought? She hadn’t warmed to her. She minded what Nathan thought, though, and that was foolish enough. Among all this was her growing anxiety over Ravenscourt; how could she save it? It needed a fortune, which she didn’t have.