* * *
Inge wanted to stay in the dream for ever; she struggled against waking up. In the dream Richard was holding on to her as if he were drowning. She had never been held so close or so tight before. He kept telling her how sorry he was, how it had all been a terrible mistake and he would stay with her always. She wanted to laugh from sheer joy but could not breathe because of the way he was hugging her, and terror of suffocation began to interfere with the joy. She woke with a shock and drew a great sobbing breath that seemed only just in time. Felix was shaking her shoulder.
‘Time to get up,’ he said gently.
It felt so wrong to see him and not Richard that she started to cry, and said without thinking, ‘Oh Felix, I was dreaming about Richard and he was being so nice to me. Then I woke up and saw you.’
His look of mild concern at the tears vanished and he said briskly, ‘Yes, I can see that would be disappointing.’
Then she realised she had been tactless and flung her arms round him to prevent him from going away. ‘Don’t be angry with me, Felix. I’m so unhappy, I want to die.’
He stroked her hair, but more with compassion than affection, she thought. ‘It’s all right, Inge, calm down. It’s only Christmas. It’s enough to upset anyone.’ He used the sort of reassuring tone she imagined Englishmen found appropriate for startled horses.
She said rapidly, urged on by need and desperation, ‘He’s got to come back, Felix, I can’t live without him.’
‘Yes, you’ve had a very hard time.’ His face and voice were both entirely neutral.
‘Don’t leave me. Can we go on till Richard comes back? I can’t be alone again.’
She now saw that he was holding a glass of wine. He took a sip from it before giving it to her.
‘Inge, look, we’re old friends and we’ve both been around. These things last as long as they last. You know that as well as I do. And I never make promises I can’t keep. We’ll go on as long as it suits us both, that’s all I can say.’
This sounded so final that she sat up and drank her glass of wine rather fast to give herself courage.
‘Come on,’ he said gently. ‘Time to go home.’
‘Christmas Eve was always special, don’t you remember?’ she said, thinking of her childhood. ‘The day itself is nothing. And Richard knows that, but he comes on Boxing Day. The boys go out to parties and I’m all alone. Let me stay here, Felix, just for a little while. I don’t want to go back to an empty house. Not yet.’ The very thought of it actually made her tremble.
He looked at his watch.
‘I’ve got to get back. Elizabeth’s expecting me, we’re going out.’
‘I’ll be good. I’ll make the sofa. I’ll wash the glasses.’ She had generally found that if she went on long enough, people gave in. ‘Oh Felix, it means so much to me not to be alone in my empty house on Christmas Eve. If I stay here I can have a fantasy that my life is different.’ And the fantasy began to take shape as she spoke.
They argued the point for a while, but she knew from his face he was beaten, long before he said, ‘Well, I can’t dress you by force and throw you out.’
‘You don’t understand. It’s just so lovely to be somewhere else.’
He smiled; she must have struck a chord. ‘Actually, I understand that very well. It’s one of the principles on which I run my life.’
She was beginning to feel he owed her this favour, if only to make good the discrepancy between their emotions: his serenity and her agitation. After all, he was going home to someone who loved him.
‘Have another drink but don’t get smashed.’ He kissed her on the forehead. ‘I’ll ring you as soon as these ghastly festivities are over.’
‘Can we meet on New Year’s Eve?’
‘That might be a little difficult.’
‘It’s another bad time for me.’ He shouldn’t need to be told all this, she thought.
‘Yes, I know, it’s a bad time for everyone. I’ll try. That’s all I can say. It’s not easy to be in two places at once but I’m working on it.’ He hesitated and she could see how reluctant he still was to leave her alone in the flat. ‘Well, take care. See you soon.’
When he had gone she stretched and closed her eyes, then opened them again, trying to pretend she had just woken up in a place that belonged to her and Richard. But the sofa bed was hard, better suited to making love than lying around, and there were more exciting things for her to do with this stolen time. She got up and poured herself some more wine, then prowled round the room and opened the forbidden wardrobe. The clothes tempted her, like something magical and dangerous in a fairy story. She started to try them on. They fitted, but only just, suggesting in some curious way a both slimmer and sturdier body, and they did not suit her. They were black, or black and silver, not her colours, but they were beautiful and expensive and she loved them. No one had ever bought her clothes like that.
She admired them for a while and herself in them, seduced by the incongruity of her new image. Then she got bored. Perhaps it would be fun to play with the word processor. But she was afraid of causing damage that would make Felix angry. His new novel, then: if she could find that and read a few pages, that would be exciting, and he would never know. It would give her a sense of power, instead of the helplessness she felt, waiting for him to fit her into the corners of his life. She began to open desk drawers at random but found only letters; where did he keep the novel? Still, even the dullest letter could be interesting because it was not meant to be read by anyone else. She found some from his agent and his publisher and even some from fans expressing passionate admiration for his work and even more passionate desire to meet him. When she found Sally’s letter, it was a few moments before she realised who it was from, and then her heart beat fast with shock. Felix had made Helen’s daughter pregnant and they had arranged an abortion without telling Richard. She sat for a few moments with the letter in her hand, feeling a sense of awe at holding something so valuable.
* * *
Marsha’s nice. She made me feel really welcome when I arrived. She couldn’t hug me exactly, being so very pregnant, but she held both my hands and kissed me on both cheeks and said, ‘Sally, I’m so glad you’ve come to us for Christmas. You must have been really sad about having to lose your baby. ’ It was a shock hearing it put like that and brave of her to say it straight out as soon as we met. I’d been wondering if we’d all have to pretend it never happened. I started to cry, of course, and she said, ‘I hope it’s not going to upset you, me being like this,’ and I said, ‘No, I’m glad for you, it’s all right, and I’m really pleased to be here.’
You can tell at once she’s a good person. There’s no malice in her. I think in her place I might be jealous of my husband’s long-lost grown-up daughter turning up and I’d be terrified of saying the wrong thing about the abortion and I’d feel almost guilty for being pregnant, like a reproach. But she seems like a very simple person who wants to be kind and just follows her instincts.
I think he was a bit embarrassed actually. He watched us having this great outspoken welcome and then he sort of drifted away and made a big fuss of the children who were climbing all over him. I still don’t know what to call him, Dad or Carey, so I don’t. I just make sure I’m looking at him when I speak to him.
He was right to warn me it’s a bit chaotic. The noise is unbelievable because there’s always a child crying or playing or screaming. And he’s usually practising the viola in the background. I don’t know how Marsha copes. Up to a point she doesn’t – the house is really filthy. It must be, for me to notice. Mum would faint. But Marsha’s amazingly good-tempered about it all. She’s obviously got her priorities all sorted out.
* * *
Christmas Eve.
He was right about it being chaotic. Marsha was making chestnut stuffing today and I was peeling a great mountain of potatoes and sprouts for all of us to have tomorrow and C was at the pub. The children kept running in and out. There’s Chlo
e who’s two, and Kim aged four, and Tom, six. There’s a goat in a pen in the garden, cropping the grass and staring at you in that slightly insolent way goats have, and chickens running about, and a rabbit in a hutch, and a derelict car rusting to bits with pieces falling off. Kim kept telling Marsha that Chloe was wet and Marsha said, ‘I know,’ but she didn’t do anything about it, just went on making the stuffing. I wondered if I should offer to change Chloe but I was a bit nervous and then Tom brought the rabbit in and let it loose in the kitchen so we all got distracted. Marsha said, ‘Oh Tom, not in the house,’ but she didn’t say it with much conviction so it probably happens a lot. ‘But poor Benji’s cold, you feel his fur,’ Tom said, as if he was used to getting his own way by pretending to be tender-hearted. ‘He wants to be with us, he’s lonely.’ Marsha said, ‘He’s got a perfectly good hutch,’ while the rabbit belted round the kitchen, stopping and starting in that sudden way they do, and Kim kept saying, ‘I want to feel your tummy, I want to feel the baby kick,’ which made my heart thump a bit, though of course I’d never got to that stage. Marsha said, ‘It’s not kicking now, lovey, it’s asleep, isn’t it lucky?’ but Kim forced his hand between her stomach and the sink just to make sure. Then she started trying to persuade Tom to change Chloe’s nappy, apparently it’s his job, but he kept making faces and saying ugh. ‘Oh, go on,’ Marsha said, wheedling, ‘you’re ever so good at it.’ I asked when C was coming home and she said, ‘Soon, I hope,’ but she didn’t sound cross, in fact she gave me a big smile as she said it. I’d be furious to be left on my own like that with so much to do and a stranger in the house. Then Chloe fell over the rabbit and started howling and had to be kissed better. It’s probably all just normal family life, only I’ve never seen it before so it comes as a bit of a shock.
* * *
I don’t know what I was expecting. More attention, I suppose. Something momentous. It felt like such a big occasion to me, being there for Xmas. Well, first of all meeting him, and then being brave enough to tell Mum I wasn’t coming home for Xmas and actually getting him to invite me to stay with them, and facing Marsha being so very pregnant and meeting all the children. I’ve done so many enormous things and I suppose I wanted him to take more notice of me.
I’m not disappointed exactly, well I suppose I am in a way. It’s just that by the time Marsha and I’d done all the veg for Xmas lunch and left them in big saucepans in cold water and got the children bathed and into bed it was supper time, and while We were getting supper C came back from the pub and went up to read stories to the children. Then we had supper but we didn’t talk about anything important, and then Marsha and I washed up and Marsha and C wrapped all the presents for the children. And then we all watched television for a bit, only by then it was after ten and C and Marsha actually fell asleep. I felt really silly sitting there watching TV while they slept, although I didn’t blame Marsha for nodding off in her state, but I wasn’t even watching a programme I liked, so eventually I switched channels, only then they woke up because the sound was different. C said they still had to do Xmas stockings and we’d better all get an early night because the children would of course be up at dawn. And Marsha said thank God there was only the turkey left to do in the morning.
I feel very funny writing this, complaining about them while I’m in their house and being away from home for Xmas for the first time. I’m cold in here, although it’s a nice room, and I miss having a duvet, though they’ve given me three blankets including a tartan one that looks like a car rug. The country is odd. Everyone says it’s wonderful and I know you’re supposed to like it, but I’m not sure I do. In London there’s either traffic sound or proper silence, but here there’s no traffic so the occasional car gives you a shock and there are funny animal sounds going on all the time that you don’t understand. I don’t feel like that about Sussex, perhaps because there are so many of us there. It’s like being in a great room full of people at college, so I’ve never thought of it as country. And it’s so early now. Only half past twelve and I’ve been in bed for nearly an hour. But if I don’t get to sleep soon and they really do wake up at dawn, I’m going to feel awful tomorrow.
Dammit, sod it, I think I’m missing my bloody mother.
* * *
Richard poured drinks for them all. There was the usual mixture of relief and anti-climax, a sort of forced brightness, that Felix always associated with Boxing Day. Thank God yesterday is over, but we’re not out of the wood yet: that was the message.
‘It feels very strange without Sally,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Helen must have been hoping she’d change her mind at the last minute.’
Felix was grateful for small mercies. At least Sally had had the sense not to come home for Christmas. It was going to be difficult enough being ordinarily sociable with Helen.
‘Not really,’ Richard said. ‘She knows Sally wants to spread her wings a bit, get to know her father and his new family. It’s quite understandable.’
‘How’s all that going?’ Felix forced himself to ask, conscious of not having spoken. Richard’s tone of calm reason enraged him. Such stupidity, though convenient, even essential, was hard to bear.
‘Pretty well, I think. She rang up yesterday, of course, and she seemed to be having a great time. A real family Christmas, she said.’
Elizabeth sipped her drink. ‘How many of them are there?’
‘I think Marsha’s about to produce number four.’
Felix flinched.
‘My God,’ Elizabeth said, ‘some people have all the luck.’
‘I’d call that going rather over the top myself,’ Felix said sharply. So she was in a mood to put the boot in. They had drunk too much last night, which made her randy and him incapable, and so her Christmas was incomplete. Now they were both bad-tempered and hung over.
‘Yes,’ she said, smiling at him, ‘you would.’
‘Look,’ Richard said into the rather nasty silence, ‘I’m sorry Helen’s not back yet, she’s working. She shouldn’t be long, though, she knows I’ll have to go and see Inge later on and that cuts into the day.’
‘Just like old times,’ Elizabeth said.
‘Well, not exactly. It may be the last time.’
They were both quite shaken. They looked at him in amazement, forgetting their grievances for the moment. It was like a replay of the original separation and the surprise that went with that.
‘It’s just got to stop,’ Richard said, ‘it’s not fair to anyone, Helen or Inge or me. I’ll simply have to give up going round there. There’s really no reason to, now the boys are bigger. I thought I was being kind or doing my duty, but I’m just raising false hopes, I realise that now.’ He poured himself another drink. ‘I’ll have to stop it, no matter what she threatens to do. I can’t spend the rest of my life being held to ransom. I’ve got to break with her.’
And whom would she turn to for comfort? Felix felt a real shiver of fright. ‘It sounds to me as if you’re trying to convince yourself,’ he said to Richard.
‘What d’you mean?’ Elizabeth said sharply.
‘Methinks he doth protest too much.’
‘Don’t be silly, it’s a good idea. Then everyone’ll know where they stand.’
‘Well, it’s a hell of a thing to do at Christmas. Might push her right over the edge.’ He could just see her coming round to the flat, distraught, getting drunk, refusing to leave.
‘Whose side are you on?’
Richard was looking at them both in astonishment. ‘No, no, he’s right. I didn’t mean I’m going to tell her today. Just some time soon. Before February, anyway. I can’t face another birthday visit. So it’s like a New Year resolution. A sort of Christmas present for Helen.’
‘She’ll love it,’ Felix said. ‘Just what she’s always wanted.’
* * *
27 December.
I don’t know how I’ve survived the past three days.
I rang Mum on Xmas Day – God it seems a long time ago – and told he
r and Richard I was having a real family Xmas. I don’t know how I could have said that. In one sense it was true but in another, the sense I wanted her to believe, it was the biggest lie I’ve ever told. Not that I’ve told many. I know I was trying to hurt her and I succeeded. I told her originally I wanted to be here so as not to have to see Felix over Xmas, but I thought I might also be trying to punish her and now I know I was.
Well, it’s rebounded on me all right. Xmas Day was just one long round of food and drink and presents and screaming children and television, normal I suppose, but I got such a headache. I tried to help but there was never a quiet time just for me so I didn’t feel I got rewarded or even noticed. And then yesterday.
C went off to his study, which is out of bounds apparently, and practised the viola. It sounded like Bach. Marsha and I played with the children and tried to talk. The TV was on in the background with the sound turned down. I hate that, it’s so irritating. I asked her how she coped and she just said the secret was to have very low standards and if you didn’t have them to start with, you jolly soon got them. I said I was surprised how much C practised and she said she thought he was just trying to get away from this lot, meaning the children. ‘Don’t blame him,’ she said. ‘I would if I could. No, they’re lovely really, it’s just when I’m pregnant, I get so tired.’ Then to my amazement when the music stopped she said she actually wasn’t all that fond of the viola, although she’d never tell him that. In fact, she wasn’t very musical at all, she said, but it didn’t seem to matter.
A Sense of Guilt Page 24
