FAMILY CIRCLE

by MARY HOCKING

  Mr. Routh nodded his head. ‘Yes, yes, oh I can see that… .’

  ‘You aren’t expected to talk and discuss, no one inquires about your I.Q., you’re judged on performance, and my performance just happens to be good. It’s my thing, as the saying goes.’

  Mr. Routh said, ‘I can see how important that must be.’

  Mrs. Routh said, ‘Timothy, what actually happened?’

  He winced. ‘Sorry, dear, sorry… .’ In spite of his jaunty air, he was pathetically nervous. ‘Well, they told me they had another boat, a fishing boat. There was a bit of sly amusement about its not being such fun as sailing but the catch was more interesting. Very subtle stuff! One of them said I was a parson’s son, wasn’t I? So I should understand about being a fisher of men.’

  Mr. Routh struck one fist against the open palm of the other hand, ‘Aah!’

  Timothy turned to him eagerly. ‘That was the way I looked at it. It sounds incredibly naive, but I even stood at the wheel once and sang, “I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men, fishers of men, if you follow me… .” You remember those choruses. Father?’

  ‘I do, indeed!’

  ‘I told myself I was really doing something, not just …’ He stopped, realizing what it was that he had been about to say. He put a trembling hand to his face to cover his confusion.

  Mr. Routh said, ‘You told yourself that you would be doing something, not just preaching like your father?’

  Timothy said huskily, ‘I thought it would be a bit of an adventure.’

  Mr. Routh said, ‘Yes, I can see that.’ He had spent his life in search of just such an adventure and it did not surprise him in the least that his son should do the same. He hung his head and stared between his knees at the carpet.

  Mrs. Routh said, ‘And profitable?’

  Mr. Routh hunched his shoulders. ‘My dear …’

  ‘Someone else will say it if we don’t, Oliver.’

  ‘There was money in it,’ Timothy admitted. ‘But it wasn’t the money that counted. You don’t have to believe me.’

  His father said, ‘I do believe you, Timothy.’

  ‘It is what a jury will believe that matters at this stage,’ Mrs. Routh said. ‘What kind of men were they? Were they looking for adventure?’

  He said, ‘No’, without meeting her eyes.

  ‘Couldn’t you see that?’

  ‘Not at first. We did a bit of preliminary planning, a practice trip across that went wonderfully well. You don’t worry about people’s moral values in a boat, it’s whether they know their job that counts. Then, when I saw more of them ashore … it was too late to back out.’ He turned away from his mother’s gaze and said to his father, ‘But I told myself that it didn’t matter what kind of people they were, my motives were right.’

  ‘How many trips did you make?’ Mrs. Routh asked.

  ‘Two. It was ghastly, pure hell in fact. From the moment I saw those wretched Pakistanis all the excitement went out of the thing. I really did feel dreadful about them, they were so wretched, so…’

  ‘And yet you did it twice?’

  ‘It wasn’t so bad the first time. You can’t understand if you don’t know about boats. I didn’t see much of them, it was a question of managing the boat. And the element of risk made it tremendously exciting. Danger is pretty heady stuff; it was like leading a raiding party into an enemy shore. I missed all that, not having a war …’ Constance turned her head and gave her brother a quizzical look; I knew how she felt, none of Timothy’s notes rang true. Timothy went on, ‘Then something went wrong on the second trip. I had thought I would be shot of the whole thing once they were ashore; but the police had a tip-off, we had to move them away from the coast in a hurry and I got lumbered with them. It wasn’t until then I realized what it was all about, how sordid it was …’

  ‘But in spite of that, you brought them here!’

  ‘But I wasn’t thinking, dear heart! Can’t you understand?’ He was sincere enough now. ‘I had to do something in a hurry. I couldn’t work it all out rationally, everything happened so quickly, events were one jump ahead of me all the time. I didn’t realize they were seriously ill until I got them to the church. I took some meat out of the larder and half a loaf of bread, but either it wasn’t their kind of food, or they were past being able to digest. I know it was wrong now, I know now what I should have done. But I couldn’t do it at the time, I was paralysed with panic, I couldn’t think… .’ He put his face in his hands. ‘I still feel it’s a night-mare and that I’ll wake up and find I haven’t done this frightful thing.’ Mr. Routh went to him and put his hand on his shoulder. ‘Timothy, Timothy, there but for the grace of God …’ He spoke in great humility and Timothy was deeply affected and began to cry in earnest. Mrs. Routh got up and removed his soup plate. She moved as though every bone in her body ached. Her face was strained to the point of desperation. She said:

  ‘So, the story is that you got into bad company, the men played on your love of sailing, you thought it was a great adventure, and you never became embroiled in the sordid side of it until the plans broke down on the second trip?’

  He said dully, ‘You don’t believe me.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what I believe.’

  ‘But it does matter, Mother. I’ve been weak and stupid, I know that. But I didn’t do it for money …’

  ‘Money was the one thing we couldn’t give you. What else was it you needed so desperately?’ It would have been easier for her to have believed that he needed money. Her husband would see this as the failure of a generation and would thereby escape individual blame. Her meticulous mind would not allow her to take this way out.

  Timothy said, ‘I wanted to be what those men thought I was.’

  She stared at him.

  ‘They thought I was … quite a character… .’

  ‘Was that important?’

  Timothy shifted uneasily. ‘I always have to impress; terribly weak, but there we are, my dears, that’s me!’

  This rueful confession did not go down very well with his parents; it was badly timed and the tone was altogether too flippant. All the time during his discussion with them, Timothy veered between genuine feeling and rather slick dramatization, he seemed not to know the difference; his personality had splintered and there was nothing at the centre.

  Mrs. Routh looked at the clock. She said, ‘I think we should telephone the police. We can’t afford to antagonize them.’

  The decision was too abrupt for Timothy. He began to rock to and fro, crying, ‘I can’t go to prison, I can’t! I can’t! They’ll lock me up. I couldn’t stand it. I’ll slash my wrists …’ His agony was real enough now, it brought terror close. I thought, suppose I could not bear this scene any longer, and, running to the door, found that it was locked …?

  Mr. Routh said brokenly, ‘Oh, my son, my son, would that I could bear this for you!’ He took a step towards Timothy and then stopped as though confronted by a physical barrier, he seemed to lean forward, his body pressing against the air, his arms were stiff, slightly lifted from his sides giving him the appearance of a great, wounded bird. Mrs. Routh watched him as though there was no other person in the room, she watched him as though his life depended on his next move. Margaret watched him, too. Mr. Routh, in fact, made no movement, he closed his eyes. Perhaps he prayed.

  It was Constance who went to Timothy and took him in her arms. She cradled his head and whispered, ‘Timothy, darling, you won’t have to face it all at once; you won’t have to bear the whole burden at any one time.’ Her voice, even now, had a natural gaiety which she could not suppress; it was very reassuring. ‘It will happen in stages, my love, like everything else in life. You only have to deal with each stage as you pass through it. Today you have to tell the police. That is all you need to think about. And after that, it will be broken up into bits and pieces of experience. You’ll manage, darling, you’ll manage, one piece at a time.’ She got him to his feet and led him past Mr. Routh
, out of the room.

  One by one, we joined them in the hall. Constance said :

  ‘Pug, telephone the police and tell them we are on our way. It would be better if we all go to the police station, instead of having Timothy taken away in a police car.’

  Mr. Routh seemed not to hear. He prowled round the hall, then came to a halt, his hands hanging by his sides, gazing in front of him like a blind man at a crossroads on the edge of limitless terror. Margaret had been watching him. She went to him at once.

  ‘Daddy, I think you should put your overcoat on. It’s a cold day.’

  ‘Overcoat?’

  ‘You’re going to the police station, darling. We’re all going.’

  ‘Oh yes, yes. Thank you, my dear.’

  She guided him to the cloakroom and helped him into his coat.

  He took her arm and said, ‘How good you are, my dear. How good you are!’

  ‘We’ll go through this together, Daddy.’

  They stood looking at each other, intensely moved. Mrs. Routh came to fetch her coat. She said to Margaret:

  ‘There is only room for four in the car.’

  ‘But I must come, Mother.’

  ‘I think it would be better if you stayed here if you don’t mind, Margaret.’

  ‘But Daddy needs me! Daddy, I must come, mustn’t I?’

  He looked uneasily at his wife; it was she whom he really needed. She said briskly:

  ‘Now is not the time for you to take the centre of the stage, Margaret. This is a time to use our heads and keep our emotions in check.’ She looked from one to the other of her family as though she had little real hope of this. Then she turned to me. She turned but did not look at me, she was pulling on her gloves and she gave her instructions to them rather than to me.

  ‘If the telephone rings, be careful what you say, Flora. Don’t give any information. The press may have got hold of this.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of saying anything.’

  ‘No, well …’ She managed to convey very clearly in these two words that my propensity to cause harm was limitless.

  ‘For God’s sake, let’s go!’ Timothy was now in a hurry, he ran to the front door and fumbled frantically with the handle.

  It did not take Constance long to get the car out of the garage and soon they had started on their journey. I telephoned the police who received the news phlegmatically. I also informed the Rouths’ solicitors that Timothy was on his way to the police station; the news was not well-received as one of the partners had already set out for Stanford. I promised to re-route him. Then I tried unsuccessfully to get Owen.

  ‘Shall we have coffee?’ I suggested to Margaret. She said ‘No.’ She was sitting on the stairs, her eyes on the front door, and seemed to have no intention of moving. I made coffee. Owen came at three. I made tea. We were on the third pot when the Rouths returned. Mrs. Routh was not pleased to see Owen, but Mr. Routh was desperately in need of someone to talk to.

  ‘He took it very well,’ he told us. ‘Remarkably well. He seemed almost … released.’ His troubled eyes met ours. ‘I suppose there are times when one’s family is a bit superfluous?’ He looked at Owen, trying to make a joke of something that was bitter to him.

  ‘It’s easier to put a good face on things in front of strangers,’ Owen said.

  ‘You think so? You’re a doctor, you know about these things, you understand …’ He sank down in a chair, glad to be comforted. Mrs. Routh came in. ‘Is there enough tea for all of us?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ve only just made it.’

  Mr. Routh said, ‘He wouldn’t let us stay. I don’t know whether they would have allowed it, anyway; but he wouldn’t let us stay. He wanted to spare us grief. He wanted to bear it alone. I feel proud of Timothy for that.’

  Margaret came and sat beside him. She took his hand. ‘Daddy, darling, don’t be so upset. It’s better to know, it really is better to know …’

  ‘You’re right, my dear. You’re right. Timothy is being very brave. We must all be brave.’

  ‘But Timothy isn’t brave, Daddy. He’s foolish and weak and cowardly, and he needs you to understand …’

  ‘Margaret!’ Mrs. Routh’s voice was angry.

  ‘But we can’t keep pretending. I can’t pretend that this is a venture of chivalry.’

  ‘Then what are you going to think? If you don’t believe Timothy, what theory are you going to put forward? It isn’t enough at this stage for you to condemn everyone else in this negative way …’

  ‘I’m not putting forward theories! But you heard what that policeman said when he came here, you heard how those men sold all their miserable possessions to undertake that journey, you heard how they travelled, in conditions in which a battery hen could hardly hope to survive… .’

  ‘Reciting this will not help, Margaret.’ Mrs. Routh was strong as steel; it was astonishing the reserves on which this woman could draw.

  ‘But we’ve got to think about it, haven’t we?’ Margaret hammered against her unavailingly. ‘Oh, please, Mother, help me a little. We can’t be quite indifferent, can we? They were out there in the church, ill and dying, while we …’

  ‘It will not help matters for you to take on the role of counsel for the prosecution, my dear.’

  ‘I’m not trying to prosecute anyone. I’m not trying to allocate blame… . But we can’t just shrug it off. It isn’t us… . It isn’t the way we’ve always been… . Daddy, don’t you care?’

  ‘My dear child, of course I care.’ He tried to flog some feeling out of himself although he was desperately tired. ‘Haven’t I spent my life combating racial discrimination, haven’t I cried aloud against these cruel laws …’

  ‘Not your past record, Daddy! Now. This episode. Don’t you care about these men? Aren’t you even a little shocked?’

  ‘My dear, of course I am.’ But he was not shocked. He believed in causes, but he could not come close to the individual. If Timothy had not been involved, he would have attacked the men who organized the racket, but the fate of the individual victims would not have shocked him although he would have cried to Heaven for the mass who were exploited. ‘Of course I’m shocked… .’ He shifted uneasily, aware of some inadequacy in himself. His eyes sought his wife’s face. ‘Perhaps I’m to blame, is this what she’s saying to me, that I’ve failed in some way?’

  ‘Margaret, we have had enough of this,’ Mrs. Routh was at her most incisive. ‘I am tired of your constant questioning and criticism. I think it is time that you concerned yourself with your own thoughts and actions. You will, in any case, have to decide what you are going to say.’

  ‘Say?’

  ‘You will be called upon as a witness, of course. Are you proposing to harangue the court as you have just harangued us?’

  Owen said, ‘Wouldn’t it be better to leave this for another day. You are all tired now.’

  ‘Witness …’ Margaret repeated.

  ‘No,’ Mrs. Routh said to Owen. ‘I don’t think we will leave this for another day. Too much has been left undone that should have been done. You will have to go into the witness box, Margaret. The police know that you were in Holland, they know that you lost your memory on your return, they, will link it with this affair. You are constantly accusing other people of running away from the truth, but you have been running away yourself for a long time. You ran away from your brother when he was in need and took refuge in loss of memory. But you cannot run any further. You must turn and face the things of which you are afraid. And the sooner the better, because the process of the law will not be held up while you decide what attitude to take.’

  Owen said, ‘Mrs. Routh! You cannot force an issue on this at the moment. Your solicitor can explain the position to Margaret in a less emotional way.’

  ‘Dr. Lander, you have been telling me for months that I should leave my daughter alone, with the result that she has carried within her a secret which has festered and made her mind unhealthy so that she had endanger
ed us all. I trusted you, I accepted your advice, I remained in the background. While you achieved absolutely nothing at all! Well, the time has come when a stop must be put to this. There are some things I will not have destroyed.’

  ‘You are in fact destroying something,’ he said angrily.

  ‘I am trying to restore my daughter to her normal, balanced self. The trouble with Margaret is that she has, thanks to you, been unoccupied for far too long, and this is fatal for someone with an active mind. She has become brooding, selfish, almost malicious. It was a great mistake that she went to Scandinavia in the first place—and I recall that on that occasion you said she needed a holiday! She should have stayed at home with us and prepared herself for that job.’ She chose her words with some perversity, selecting phrases with which she knew he would be in strong disagreement. ‘More recently, she was fortunate enough to be offered something quite interesting at the university and you tried to tell me that she could not even cope with that! I should never have listened to you. A brilliant mind needs to be extended, otherwise it goes in search of trouble.’

  ‘This is arrant nonsense!’ Owen had lost his temper.

  ‘Is it?’ She was not displeased at the effect which her words had had. ‘Even so, you will at least permit me to talk to my daughter in my own house.’ She turned and looked at Margaret, and suddenly she smiled. ‘We want her restored to the loving, sensible Margaret that we all know and who has given us so much joy. From whom we expect so much.’ She stretched out both hands in a gesture full of such utter confidence that for a moment I thought she must indeed lift Margaret up and transform her into the person she believed her to be. Margaret stood as though in a trance. Her mother came towards her and put her hands on her shoulders; she looked her in the face and spoke quietly but with a quality that transcended her usual incisiveness and gave to her words a sense of unassailable, inalienable rightness. ‘Now, go to your room, my darling; lie down and rest. You are not a naturally rebellious child, but this is the age of rebellion and you have had your hour and have passed through the fire. Now you must dismiss all this tumult and confusion from your mind. And come back to us, renewed and refreshed, our dear, reliable, capable Margaret. Our very gifted Margaret. There is much work waiting for you to do, work which will occupy that questing mind and satisfy that eager spirit. We are all going to be very proud of you one day.’