We won’t tell the Partridges, of course. We all know that. My mother is right: what good would it do now? It wouldn’t bring absolution. Just hurt, on top of hurt.
To break the silence my mother says, ‘Let’s hope that your next visit will be more pleasant, Laura.’ But then she turns quickly away, as if realizing the improbability of her words.
They come out to see me off, though. Both of them. And I can’t help but be amazed at how they slip their social faces back into place. There are one or two neighbours out and about enjoying the sunshine now – my mother waves, my father calls out Morning! No one would notice the slight croak to his voice. I see them looking at me, these neighbours, and I find myself holding my back up straight and keeping my face pleasantly blank. How we perform, how we always perform.
I get into the car. My mother taps on the window so that I have to wind it down. She leans in and says, ‘You go home now and make things up with James,’ and thus she attempts to sweep all other matters back under the carpet, where she can deal with them best. ‘I’m sure everything will be fine.’
Things won’t be fine, though. Of that I’m sure. Nothing will ever be fine again.
And then my father comes shuffling up, and my mother steps aside. He bends down so that his face is close to mine, and when he sighs I feel it against my skin. For a long while he doesn’t speak, and I just sit there and watch him struggling for words. This is my father. There are tears in his eyes. I see his jaw tensing, fighting for control.
‘I did a terrible thing,’ he says. ‘And I’ve had to live with it ever since.’ He leans his hand on the car door, just below the window, and I see that he is shaking. ‘Believe me, Laura, I am sorry. Truly, truly sorry. For what I did to them . . . and to you, too.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ I say. ‘But it will never be enough, will it? It will never make things right.’
And in my father’s eyes I see the damage that we have done, both of us. I see the limits of what we are.
Acknowledgements
With thanks to Sara Menguc, Jenny Geras and the staff at Macmillan, my husband Nick, and my family and friends for their support and enthusiasm.
First published 2010 by Macmillan
This electronic edition published 2010 by Macmillan
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Copyright © Suzanne Bugler 2010
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This Perfect World Page 27
