The Running Years

by Claire Rayner

  She dressed that evening particularly carefully, in a daringly cut copper coloured silk dress. She put on makeup too, more carefully than usual, so that her eyes looked startling blue against the dark lashes, and her skin shone as though someone had put a light behind it. When Marcus looked at her as she came down the stairs to meet him, his eyes widened a little, but his face remained quite expressionless.

  She chattered with great vivacity as the car purred through the King’s Road and on past Sloane Square to Knightsbridge. He said little and now again she looked at his profile clear against the passing lights of the shops and the traffic, and redoubled her efforts. Dammit, she thought deep inside herself, dammit, I'll show him. But she didn’t know what she was going to show him.

  The dance given by one of the younger Rothschilds was a particularly fashionable one, well attended by Lammecks and Damonts as well as by an assortment of county English. There had been a time, early in her friendship with Marcus, when she had resisted going to such parties; were not these the people who had once snubbed her, misused her followed Davida’s lead into treating her like a guttersnipe? But she had overcome that, because she had realized how irrelevant it all was now. The ancient snobberies and slights had died with the generation which had displayed them. These younger Lammecks and Damonts had long since forgotten the old scandals. For Hannah to remember them, she told herself, would be stupid. And she was not stupid. So she buried the old hurts, and went to the parties with Marcus, and usually enjoyed them, gossiping with him about the people there, though usually objecting strenuously to be treated as a celebrity, as hostesses were wont to try to do.

  But tonight, Hannah decided yielding to her hostess’s determination to treat her so and allowed herself to be drawn into a group of chattering and exceedingly expensively dressed people. She went on as she had begun with Marcus; she was vivacious and sparkling and almost surprised herself with the wit that came bubbling out of her, and the way she made people around her laugh. And all the time she was aware of Marcus near her, watching and listening, and redoubled her efforts.

  That people liked what they saw and heard was undoubted. They laughed a lot, and the group she was in grew larger, as more people drifted over to be where the centre of interest so clearly was, and after a while Marcus spoke behind her. ‘Hannah,’ he said quietly. ‘There is someone who would like to meet you.’

  She turned, feeling the group around her fall back a little, and looked at the man standing behind Marcus. He was rather short and had fair hair slicked fairly close to his head, and a face a little like Marcus’s own, with deep clefts in the cheeks, but there was a petulance about his expression that was clearly all his own. He smiled, and that lifted the expression a little and held out one hand.

  ‘The Prince of Wales, Hannah, Marcus murmured and she threw a glance at him and then to her own amazement, laughed. ‘Do you know, I rather thought that was the case,’ she said and held out her own hand. ‘You are not difficult to recognize, sir.’

  The Prince looked at little blank, and there was a silence from the people behind her. Then he smiled again, and shook her hand warmly and laughed too. ‘How do you do? I hope we shall be friends, Mrs Lammeck.’

  ‘Hannah,’ she said ‘My friends call me Hannah.’

  ‘Ah, Hannah. How charming a name that is! Do you dance, Hannah?’

  ‘Frequently,’ she said, and he laughed again, as thought she had been exquisitely witty, and as the music changed to a tango, stood back with one hand indicating the dance floor, so that she could lead the way.

  All the time she was dancing she knew she was being watched and to her own amazement enjoyed the situation, swooping and throwing back her head with all the elan she could muster. They moved through the staccato steps as though they had danced together many times, and he was indeed an elegant and adept dancer. She wanted to giggle and wished Marcus was near enough so that she could whisper some silly joke in his ear about the Prince pretending he was Rudolph Valentino and she behaving like Pola Negri. The idea was so absurd that she did laugh, and that seemed to please the Prince.

  Afterwards, as the other dancers broke into a spatter of applause at the performance, he led the way back to the corner of the big room where there was a table a which he had been sitting, and insisted she join his party there, and she smiled brilliantly as the Prince introduced her to the various people sitting there.

  I have some champagne here, Hannah,’ the Prince said. ‘Or would you prefer a cocktail? Young Rothschild is quite disgusted with m, I have no doubt, for he’s a noted wine bibber, but there, what I can do? I seem to have an affinity for gin, and I recommend the White Ladies. Rupert, do push that chap over there in this direction … ’

  Hannah watched as the young man addressed as Rupert moved lazily away to fetch the waiter the Prince wanted and then, as he came back, felt her face redden. He was looking at her very directly with a sort of insolence in his expression, and she felt her lips tighten; he had no right to look at her so.

  ‘And how is Marie, Mrs Lammeck?’ he said in a high pitched and rather affected drawl as he came back to the table, followed by the waiter. ‘Haven’t see her in an age, and she used to talk of you so much.’

  ‘In Switzerland,’ Hannah said sharply, and turned away, not wanting to talk to him, but he was not so easily put off.

  ‘Such a charming daughter Mrs Lammeck has, sir,’ he said and his voice seemed higher than ever now. ‘Prettiest little creature you ever set eyes on, very shapely. Not surprising of course, with such a beautiful mother.’

  The Prince turned and looked at her. ‘You have a grown daughter, Hannah? Bless me. I wouldn’t have thought.’

  ‘Indeed I have, sir. Perhaps you will let me present her one day. Now, if you will excuse me … ’

  She got to her feet, suddenly tired of the silly game she had been playing. The people round this table were not her sort; they were either ten or more years her junior or pretending to be so, and the glossiness of them was no longer attractive and her head was beginning to ache a little. What had possessed her to put on so silly a performance on the dance floor as she had? She deserved to be reminded that she had an almost adult daughter, and she was too old for this sort of nonsense. Where was Marcus? She wanted to go home.

  As though she had called his name aloud, he was there standing beside her shoulder. The Prince looked up and said, ‘Ah, Lammeck, d'you know everyone?’

  ‘How could he not?’ Rupert said. ‘My brother knows everyone in the world, sir, you know that! And disapproves of most of ‘em! What ho, big brother! Going to tell me what a bad little boy I am? Or will that wait till later?’

  ‘Depends on how bad a little boy you are,’ Marcus said. ‘Hannah, my dear, you said you had promised the Henriques, we’d go on, and I rather think … ’

  ‘What?’ she said. ‘Oh, yes, of course, the Henriques.’

  ‘Oh, you can’t take her away when I’ve just met her!’ the Prince said. ‘Come, Hannah, do stay a little longer. I'm sure your friends will wait. Anyway they're probably here themselves - everyone is as far as I can see. Who was it did you say, Lammeck?’

  ‘Some rather older people, sir,’ Marcus said easily. ‘Disapprove of the Charleston and cocktails, you know. We’d better go.’

  ‘But we must meet again, Hannah.’ The Prince stood up and took her hand and held it warmly. He was about her own height, and she was able to look him directly in the eye, which felt odd after being with Marcus who was several inches taller. ‘I'm sure we could be very good friends, you and I,’ he said, and his eyes crinkled with practised charm.

  ‘I'm sure.’ She nodded at the people at the table and moved away feeling safe and strong with Marcus by her side. ‘Good night, sir.’

  ‘I'm sorry about that,’ Marcus said in a cold voice, as they approached the door. ‘I'm truly sorry.’

  ‘Actually I wanted to leave,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a headache. I'm glad to go.’

  ‘I'm not apologizi
ng for taking you away. I'm sorry because you had to meet those people.’

  She laughed the. ‘Meeting the Prince is supposed to be a special privilege, isn’t it? I know when I met his grandfather people thought so. I don’t imagine anything much has changed.’

  Again she felt a wave of awareness of her age sweep over her. Thirty-three never used to feel so old, but now it did. She had met the Prince’s grandfather and men she met at parties asked after her daughter.

  ‘I hadn’t met Rupert before,’ she said then.

  ‘And if I’d had my way you wouldn’t have met him then,’ Marcus said savagely. ‘Oh, dammit, that’s silly, I suppose. You’d have had to meet him sooner or later, if not at our wedding, but I didn’t want you mixed up with that horrible lot there. It’s all right for the Prince, he can hang around with any riff-raff he likes and get away with it, but for people like Rupert, they're a menace. There wasn’t a woman at that table who hasn’t had more lovers than she’s had dinners, and most of ‘em are - well, never mind … ’

  They were standing now on the pavement outside the house while Marcus rummaged in his pockets for his car keys. She was staring at him, her face quite blank.

  ‘What did you say?’ she said after a moment. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I'm sorry,’ he said, and - ’

  ‘Our wedding?’

  ‘Oh. That. Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Ah, her they are! Shall we go straight home, Hannah? Or would you like to go and eat supper somewhere else first?’

  54

  ‘I don’t know why I won’t,’ she said again. ‘I just won’t. Can’t.’

  ‘But you're not a fool, Hannah! You're an intelligent woman with a good deal of commonsense, which is rare enough, God knows. You can’t fob me off like that.’

  She shook her head, and turned to stare out of the car window at the square outside, lying dark and ruffled in the October night. The wind was not high but it was enough to keep the yellowed leaves on the plane trees in constant uneasy movement, and the whispering seemed to echo her own uncertainty. She watched a few of the leaves go bowling along the gutter from pool of lamplight to pool of lamplight, straining her eyes a little to see them as they moved through the dark patches between.

  ‘I'm not - ‘ she said, and turned her head to look at him. Listen, Marcus. Please listen. Don’t interrupt or even think until I’ve finished, and I'll try the best I can to explain. I care a lot for you. You're the best friend I’ve got. I think, even better than Cissie at the factory, and you know how important she is to me. Since you arrived I’ve been happy. Excited too. You're very exciting. I - damn, this bit’s difficult. I got excited enough to be angry with you because you didn’t do anything about it - no, don’t move, I'm having enough problems. Just listen. I like you as a friend. I'm excited by you and I think you’d be a … I think I want you as a lover. Dammit, I know I do. No. Keep still. But I don’t want you as a husband. I’ve done that once. And … well, I’ve done that once.

  Now he made no attempt to move, peering at her in the darkness. After a while he said carefully, ‘Let me understand this. You're saying that the problem is not that you don’t love me?’

  ‘That’s what I'm saying.’

  ‘Then you do love me?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I think - I'm not sure. That’s part of the problem. I want you, I know that much. But I'm not sure I really love you. Enough.’

  ‘Enough for what?’ She felt him smile in the darkness and a spurt of anger lifted her.

  ‘Ddon’t be indulgent at me! Enough not to make - not to make a mess of it. Look at my history, damn you, and then think again! I'm not just a silly girl you’ve picked up, someone who’s young enough and inexperienced.’

  ‘You're hardly old,’ he said dryly.

  ‘Almost thirty-four.’

  ‘Hardly old.’

  ‘I feel it sometimes. Often. Marie is almost sixteen. She’s a worry to me, the way almost grown daughter are worries to their mothers. I'm getting older.’

  ‘Why should you be any different?’

  ‘You're five years younger than I am.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So, it worries me. I made a mess of two other men’s lives, your own cousins, damn it.

  You should be glad I'm not about to rush headlong into doing the same for you.’

  ‘Oh, come on, this is perfectly ridiculous!’ He sounded genuinely angry. ‘Just what do you see yourself as? Some sort of lethal black widow spider who destroys her mates?’

  ‘You can laugh if you like, but it’s true. Daniel …' She tried to go on, and she couldn’t, feeling the tears tightening her throat and keeping the words dammed back.

  ‘Hannah, listen to me. Please, my love, listen.’ She could feel his breath warm on her cheek, but he did not touch her. ‘I knew Daniel. Better than you did, for all you married him. He was a … oh, he was a flawed person, I suppose. I know we all are, in some form or other, but in him it was different. It ran so deep it had to destroy him. Really, my aunt had destroyed him long ago before he met you. I think you were the best thing that happened to him. If he’d done as my aunt wanted and married Leontine Damont do you think he’d have been any happier?’

  ‘He’d be alive,’ she said. Her voice sounded very loud in her own ears. ‘He’d be alive.’

  ‘Sometimes being alive is to get the worst of it,’ he said. ‘Easy to say when you're living I know, but it wasn’t your fault. You must believe that.’

  ‘I’ve told myself that lots of times, Marcus. I used to lie awake at night and try to understand, so see whether it was my fault or Mary Bee’s for being conceived when she was, that Daniel … that it happened. And I’d tell myself I wasn’t God, that Uncle Alex was right when he told me I wasn’t to blame. But there’s another part that doesn’t listen. The guilty part.’

  ‘Guilt! You and your guilts, Hannah! As long as I’ve known you I’ve felt that in you, that need to expiate all the time. What is it about you that makes you take everyone else’s shame and fear the way you do?’

  She managed to smile in the darkness. ‘You sound like Uncle Alex,. He says it’s always been like that. That Jews used to be blamed or everything so much that now they blame themselves before anyone else gets the chance.’ She imitated Alex’s gruff tone. ‘On account of we're quicker on the uptake. So he says.’

  ‘He may be right. Don’t change the subject, Hannah. I’ve asked you to marry me.’ She looked away from him then. ‘I don’t think I can. Marry you, that is… ‘ And deliberately, she left the end of her sentence open, fixing her eyes on his face now, trying to see the expression on it in the dark interior to the car.

  He was silent for a long moment and then he said carefully, ‘I think you’d better say it all clearly. Are you offering something different? I don’t was to jump to any conclusions that might be - embarrassing.’

  ‘It’s not that unusual,’ she said, almost defensively. ‘You said all those women at the Rothschild dance had them, more than they’d had dinners. Why not me?’

  ‘Because you're not one of that crowd,’ he said, and the contempt in his voice was icy.

  ‘Promiscuous pieces of - of garbage! They're the richest most cossetted women there are in this whole damned country and they behave like pigs in straw. They'll do anything with anyone for no reason. They don’t even have need to redeem them. They do it casually carelessly and - they're sickening. They’ve as much notion of love and loyalty and trust and - decency as a dog. Less.’

  ‘So!’ She tried to sound light and relaxed, and managed to sound in her own ears only silly. ‘It’s clear you don’t want to consider my offer.’

  ‘I am offering you all I can which is everything. My love, my total concern for your happiness and welfare, my complete involvement in everything that matters to you. What are you offering in return? Just sex? That isn’t enough, Hannah. Not for you, and certainly not for me. You demean yourself by suggesting it.’

&n
bsp; ‘Demean myself?’ She sounded very bitter then. ‘There was a time when your family would have said that was impossible. That I was already so low I could go no lower.’ He was very still beside her, and then he said in a voice that was icy, ‘I will not tolerate this. To refuse me as a husband because of what my older relations did would be an outrageous insult. I don’t think you mean to offer that, whatever else you're offering.’

  ‘I'm sorry,’ she said after a moment. ‘That was wrong of me, I suppose. But it still hurts. It still sits in my mind I can’t help it. They hated me. Perhaps some still do.’ He made an impatient gesture in the darkness, and she saw the glint of light in his hand. ‘it’s no reason to refuse me. No reason to suggest - whatever it is you're suggesting.

  Family connections mean nothing between us. There’s just you and me. And what you seem to be suggesting is not an answer I can take. You must not speak to me in such terms.’

  ‘You sound very biblical,’ she said and took a deep breath. ‘Very proper. I mean no wickedness, you know. I was trying to be honest. There wasn’t only Daniel, you see. There was Peter. But of course, in your eyes, that was - that was behaving like those women you so loathe, wasn’t it? What was it you said? Pigs in straw? Like a dog? that was how it was with Peter and me, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, no, please stop, Hannah! This isn’t what was supposed to happen! I love you! I want everything to be perfect for you, and I can’t bear it that we’ve degenerated into this sort of horrible squabble. Please.’